The Princess Bride's Daughter
by Raven Wolfmoon
Summary: Waverly is sick of her parents' constant mushy 'true love'. She wants to get out and have an adventure of her own! But when she is kidnapped and Westley sets off after her, she realizes just how much she really had. Humor on the way! COMPLETE
1. True Love Makes You Want To Puke

_A/N: Wow, this took way too long to actually submit! I've had the intentions of putting this up for so long, and I'm finally doing it now! Woot! I guess now I'll have to see how many people actually like this!_

_**Note: This is based on the movie; I haven't actually read the book, so don't get mad at me for getting some details wrong! Enjoy!**_

Update as of June 15, 2009: I'm currently replacing the chapters of this story in order to fix my rather horrible grammatical errors. I certainly learned to write much better since this was written, haha!

Chapter 1: True Love Makes You Want To Puke

Waverly sighed in boredom and rested her chin on her hands, her elbows standing solidly on the windowsill of the family room. Her dull blue eyes stared languidly at the waving fields of grass behind the expanse of yet another temporary home.

Usually moving to a new place excited her, but by now she was just sick of it. Her parents had insisted on remaining safe and hidden here in the wilderness of Guilder, away from the prying, vengeful eyes of Prince Humperdinck. And even though they had mostly avoided him, there had been some close calls; the most recent one resulting their moving to another isolated spot…yet again.

Wind brushed stray locks of Waverly's rich blond hair against her cheek. She closed her eyes and breathed peacefully, enjoying the momentary silence. Suddenly, the quiet was interrupted by hysteric giggles from behind her. She rolled her eyes in annoyance.

Another thing she was sick to death of was her parents' endless kissing. Day in and day out: it seemed that their faces were glued together! It made her want to puke! And even more so since they didn't seem to mind doing it right in her presence.

Of course, she couldn't really blame them. _True love doesn't happen everyday,_ she thought dismally, echoing one of her father's favorite quotes. And true love was one of the things they kept going on and on and on about! It was driving her insane! Twelve years she had lived, and it seemed that in all that time, her parents had spent more time with each other than with her. Sure she was jealous, she could admit that. But that still didn't mean she enjoyed listening to her parents suck the lives out of each other!

Huffing, Waverly pulled together her cloak and strode out the front door, not bothering to glance back to see if they noticed or not. Out on the grassy embankment, the wind tore at her hair and dress. She barely noticed it as her legs picked up speed and she was flying to the summit of the hill. Catching her breath on the top, she smiled in awe. What a view! The sea crashed on the cliff hundreds of feet below her and the salt in the breeze smelled wonderful! Her smile faded as her storm-blue eyes connected with a ship slowly approaching on the undulating waves. Her mind was frantic.

_Oh no! We just got here! I don't want to leave _again_! _

But then she noticed the flag whipping around the mast. Her smile reappeared in a broader version. It was the flag of a pirate ship, and not just any pirate ship! It was the Revenge, the ship of the Dread Pirate Roberts!

Waverly's heart did a little flip-flop in her chest. Her father had told stories of his escapades as the Pirate Roberts and then the anointment of the current Roberts, a Spaniard by the name of Inigo Montoya. How she had dreamed of meeting him! Although her parents kept regular contact with him through the mail, there was always a problem of actually getting together. 'We're moving, we live too far away, we're too busy' were constant replies to his eager summons. But now, it seemed that she would finally meet the man in the stories!

Her hopes were instantly dashed as thoughts of her parents came to mind. They would never allow her to meet him. _It's too dangerous, anything could happen, _she imagined them saying. _We don't want to lose you like we lost each other. _It was the same excuse as always. And as much as Waverly wanted to see Inigo Montoya in person, that wasn't the only reason. She almost wanted something bad to happen so that she could witness the bravery her father had boasted about in his tales of heroism back in the day. All the adventures he had described seemed like pure fantasy; he did little more than practice with his sword now.

Although he had taught her amazing skills with his blade, she wanted to see him really in action against the bad guys. Picturing feats wasn't the same as actually _seeing_ them. How desperately she wanted her own adventure, anything to break free from this dreary life! Sighing to herself, she realized how impossible that would be. Her parents would kill her if she tried anything. With her tail between her legs, she trudged back to the house, moping. She stepped through the front door and made for her room when she was halted in place by a clucking noise. With a grimace on her face, she slowly turned and faced her parents.

They were sitting in each other's arms on the chair of the family room, watching her. Her father had his characteristic sarcastic smile on his lips, and her mother looked stern. Oh boy, she was in for it now.

"What were doing out there all alone?" her mother demanded, her face scrunching up to make it look more menacing. Waverly liked to call it the parenting face. Her mother's eyes grew and her face turned pointy as she stood and gawked down at her daughter. "Waverly, you know we don't like you going out alone!" she scolded.

Waverly scoffed. "Oh, you noticed," she muttered under her breath. Her father's eyebrows skyrocketed as he seemed to hear what she just said. He rose and stood next to his wife, cradling her hand in his own.

"What's the matter?" he asked, smiling slightly. Waverly glared at her toes. She could say so many things…

"Well?" her mother insisted. Waverly sighed and raised her head to meet her parents' eyes.

"You two had your adventure, and you keep telling me how brave and courageous you were. But how come we keep running and hiding like cowards? Why won't you let me have any fun? We keep moving and to places where there is no one I can spend time with. You wonder why I go out alone? Well it's because that is all I can do! There is no one else here, and you two are always together! How can I not go alone?" Waverly cried passionately.

Her mother's beautiful face paled considerably and her father looked thoughtful, as if he were considering her argument. He shook his head, splaying his blond hair into even more of a mess than before.

"Buttercup, my love, I think she has a point."

Buttercup eye's glistened with tears as she turned to her husband sharply.

"How can you even say that?" she demanded, her voice filled with emotion. "I lost you twice, Westley! I would not be able to survive if I lost Waverly!"

"But I taught Waverly skills with the sword. What was the point of teaching them to her if she wasn't going to even use them?"

"You said they were for protection! So she could protect herself against Humperdinck's men!"

"Yes, but even then we didn't let her fight!"

"It was too dangerous!" Buttercup protested, but she could see the point had not taken on her husband's face. Waverly watched in triumph as her mother bit her lip and spun on her heel, slamming the door on her way out.

"Thanks, Dad," she said softly. Her father put his arms around her shoulders and squeezed.

"No problem, kiddo. Maybe there's a Ms. Dread Pirate Roberts in the future!"

Waverly smiled and hugged him. When they parted, Waverly looked up into his face.

"But I know there's a present Dread Pirate Roberts, and he's here now!" she exclaimed.

_A/N: Review please! If enough people like this story, I'll keep updating! Just wondering what the reactions will be…oh, and it's marked for humor for a reason. It'll get better, that is funnier, don't worry! And just to reiterate the point, review!! Thank you, come again!_


	2. Fencing on a Pirate Ship

_A/N: Yay! Thank you so much C.M! Even if only one person likes it, I shall continue updating! Woohoo! _

Chapter 2: Fencing on a Pirate Ship

"Ah, my friend!" came a voice with a Spanish accent. Waverly didn't even watch her father as he was hugged tightly by the proposed Dread Pirate Roberts.

There was just so much to see! But even as her eyes gazed over the endless marvels, she couldn't help but feel guilty about her mother. Buttercup had steadfastly refused to join them and was still fuming at her husband for exposing their daughter to danger. There had been a heated argument, the worst in ten years, and Westley had left her behind. Waverly could still see the pained expression on her mother's face as she walked out of the door with her father…

Sighing heavily, she tried to focus on the positive things of the moment. For one, she was on a pirate ship, and not just any pirate ship! This one was filled with bounty the likes of which she'd never seen before! Everything from jewelry, to weapons, to food and even statues of gold! Her eyes hungrily ate up the scene as men scrambled along the deck, lowering the sail and anchor and doing their pirate duties. She had never been so happy in her life! Suddenly, someone tapped her shoulder. She whirled around and her eyes traveled up and up to stare into those of a giant that towered above her. She would've been terrified had she not known who he was.

"Fezzik!" she breathed. He nodded and she almost sighed in relief. His huge face split into a wide grin and in the next moment, she was engulfed in a bone-crushing hug that swept her off her feet. When he set her down, she was gasping but still smiling with pleasure.

"Little Buttercup," Fezzik said happily, staring down at her with a grin on his face. He reached out a hand and patted her head.

Waverly normally would've been annoyed to be called by her mother's name, for her mother had seemed every bit to be the 'damsel in distress' in the stories that she had told. Waverly could barely comprehend letting someone else be the hero while you sat and watched. She was destined for action, fighting anything and anyone. and risking her life for someone else's! No way would _she_ sit on the sidelines! However, at the moment, she was so happy that she couldn't be bothered with such petty irritations. Smiling up at the giant again, she turned to the railing of the boat and looked out at the turbulent waters below that rocked the ship.

Waverly felt his finger jab her shoulder again, and she faced him once more.

"What is it, Fezzik?"

The giant's grin broadened. "Well, Inig—I mean, Dread Pirate Roberts wants to see you!" He pointed up the deck where a man standing beside her father was waving at her.

She smiled again in excitement. "You mean I get to meet him?" she wondered eagerly. Fezzik nodded emphatically and immediately picked her up and carried her up to her father. She laughed gleefully as Fezzik lowered her to the ground in front him.

"Having fun?" Westley asked, a smile playing on his lips. Waverly looked up at him, her eyes shining.

"Yes!" she breathed. Westley chuckled and was joined in by the man next to him.

"I know how you feel! The first time I was aboard this ship—oh the joy in it all!" The man smiled down at her and she smiled back, liking him instantly. He held out a hand and helped her to her feet. She bowed in gratitude. The man grinned.

"She has the politeness of her father," he stated, turning to Westley who gazed at his daughter proudly. The man abruptly leaned in close to Waverly. "Now, you know who I am, of course? My real and fake name?" The last part he whispered, to which she replied yes. "I am the Dread Pirate Roberts!" he shouted suddenly. The men on board started and he laughed. "I love doing that," he said softly to himself. Waverly giggled. "Now, come into my cabin so that we may speak in private."

He gripped her shoulder and steered it into his room. It was wide and spacious inside, with two beds on both ends and a desk in the middle, facing out a wide window. Waverly went to sit on one of the beds beside her father.

"Now, you can call me Inigo.," Inigo stated. Waverly smiled again, not caring that that was all she had been doing all day. Inigo chuckled and sat upon his desk chair. "Now, your father tells me you have some skill with the sword. A fine practice, fencing. Good skills to know."

"Well, sir, I'm not…_that_ good yet," Waverly said shyly. Inigo frowned and then smiled.

"And she has the modesty of her mother. I'm sure you are better than you think you are. Most definitely better than me at that age! But here, let's see, shall we?" Inigo turned to his desk and faced back at her with a long box in his lap.

Waverly's heart thumped eagerly. Her hands took the box from him and she opened the lid to reveal the most beautiful sword she had ever seen. The brand new steel glistened and the hilt was decorated with the most stunning designs. Her breath caught in her throat as Inigo prompted her to pick it up and test it out. Her fingers wrapped delicately around the hilt, and she carefully removed the sword from the box. The weight was almost perfect! Her father's sword had been too heavy to practice with, so for a long time she had simply used wood. Now she had a real blade in her hands! She did a few practice jabs and Inigo smiled delightedly.

"Do you like it?"

Waverly could barely contain herself. "Oh yes!" she exclaimed, running her fingers over it lovingly.

"Well, it's yours," Inigo stated. Waverly looked up at him and her eyes widened.

"You mean it?" she marveled breathlessly. Inigo chuckled and nodded. Waverly impulsively ran to Inigo and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. "Thank you, oh thank you so much!" she cried, oblivious to the sword still clutched in her hand that was waving dangerously close to Inigo's face. He pushed her back gently and took the blade in his hand.

"Be careful with that," he admonished. Waverly smiled sheepishly. "This is a sword, you know," Inigo continued with a cunning smile.

Waverly grinned.

"Now let's see what you can do with it!"

Waverly nodded enthusiastically and went to the center of the room. Her imagination kicked in as she pictured the room swarming with Prince Humperdinck's men. She stabbed and thrust and lunged and parried in a fervor that startled even her. From time to time, her father or Inigo would call out something she could improve upon and she always complied to the best of her abilities. For over an hour, she fenced ceaselessly. She was so into it that she barely noticed how tired she was getting until her body suddenly halted in its routine. She stood still and panted while she suddenly had difficulty keeping her eyelids open. Westley noticed her fatigue and approached her.

"I think you need a rest now, my little warrior."

Waverly nodded despite herself, but wouldn't allow her father to take her sword. He understood and backed off slightly. He turned to Inigo.

"Is there a spare room she can rest in?" he asked. Inigo nodded and began a description of where the room was. Waverly didn't care. She had a sword, and she was going to sleep on a pirate ship! That was enough for her!

She allowed herself to be led down to a room off the side of the captain's chambers. Once inside, she collapsed onto the bed and let the rhythm of the waves lull her to sleep, her sword still clutched in hand.

_A/N: And the plot will soon unfold…dun dun dun!! Review!!_


	3. Taken

_A/N: Thanks so much for reviewing Countess Verona Dracula! I'm glad you like it! For you now I shall update. Enjoy! _

Chapter 3: Taken

"She is something, isn't she?" Inigo asked Westley as he returned. A smile crept onto his lips as he stepped through the door, leaving it ajar. He nodded and chuckled.

"She's a fiery one," Westley stated.

"Remind you of anyone?" Inigo asked jokingly.

Westley grinned. "Yes, and that's what gets her mother so worked up. Buttercup fears that Waverly will turn into a reckless daredevil like I was and go and get killed and the like."

Inigo nodded knowingly. "Yes, but I see she has her mother's heart. She will go far in life, I'm sure of it. As for Buttercup, well that's another story. She has a right to be protective, in some sense."

Westley nodded in agreement. "It's just that she's over-protective in some cases. It was hard enough for her to allow me to teach Waverly how to use a sword. I had to say it was for Waverly's own protection. And even now, if one little thing goes awry in our new house, we're packed up and moving to another. So many times have I insisted we stand our ground and fight! I mean, if we stop Humperdinck now, we can go our entire lives without worry. She just won't stand for it! Now Waverly's finally had enough of that, and I can't help but agree with her."

"Ah, but my friend. Buttercup is right in moving. Have you heard the latest proclamation? There's a huge reward for Buttercup's head alone! And your head surpasses—wait, did you just hear that?" Inigo paused as he and Westley and turned to the door. They both had heard a strange muffled sound outside of it, and as they watched, a shadow passed over the crack in the door and hurried footsteps echoed away from it.

"What was that?" Inigo wondered aloud.

Westley frowned. "I don't know." He got up and went to the door. Opening it, he peered out quickly and returned inside, this time closing the door behind him.

"Nothing," he reported.

Inigo shrugged and they resumed their conversation.

* * *

Deep within the covers of the cabin's bunk, Waverly dreamed deeply of sword fights and battles in which she and her father, accompanied by Inigo and Fezzik, beat up the bad guys and came away victorious. She subconsciously smiled in her sleep and sighed in pleasure. A second later, her dreams were rudely interrupted. Something or someone was hissing, and it seemed nearby.

Waverly groggily opened her eyes and stared around blearily, for a moment forgetting where she was. When she remembered, she sat up in alarm as her hand closed over the hilt of her sword which lay on the bed next to her. She listened tensely, and heard the sound again. It seemed to be coming from right outside her cabin door.

_It's probably just some pirates having a late night chat_, she thought logically, relaxing into her pillows once again. But then the sounds increased in volume, and she heard the unmistakable noise of a door creaking open. She immediately faked sleep and listened intently. There appeared to be two men who had entered her chamber. Her heart raced fearfully.

"This is it then," one man stated in a low voice that didn't work well with whispering.

"Yea, now be quieter you! Things have got to go smoothly if little Miss Buttercup here wants a nice trip to King Humperdinck!" the second nasally voice laughed eerily.

Three questions stood out in Waverly's mind: one, why were they calling her Miss Buttercup? They obviously had gotten her confused with her mother, but why would they want the real Buttercup? Unless they were working for Humperdinck! Which was the last question on the list: did she hear right that Humperdinck was King now? All her parents had ever called him was 'Prince'. Apparently, his title had changed and so had his power. Waverly bit her lip fearfully and tightened her grip on the sword, still playing possum.

"This is gonna be great, I'm telling ya! Can ya picture the money Humperdinck will give us for this little kid's pretty head? Oi, we'll be rich our entire lives!" the second man continued. Waverly pictured him grinning devilishly.

"I'm gonna get me some new knives," the first voice answered.

"And we're both gonna retire early, you can bet on that!"

"And I might even buy me a cat!"

"Oh would you just shut up?" the second voice snarled.

"Yes, let's now kidnap Buttercup!"

"Be quiet!" the first man hissed.

"I think I need to go on a diet—ow! Okay already!" the first voice insisted. The second man growled in frustration and Waverly heard footsteps approaching her.

She was ready.

As soon as she judged them inches from her bed, she sprang with a savage war cry. Both men fell back and she lunged with her sword, stabbing one of them through the gut. She cringed as he cried out in pain, but the other one was coming straight for her. She ripped her sword out of the first man, her insides shriveling with the knowledge that she had mortally wounded another human being. Thus, she barely had time to parry his attack. But in the next instant, she realized his direct attack was just a diversion.

Waverly felt the hilt of his blade smash down on the back of her head like the force of a bell, pealing inches away. The sound boomed through her entire mind, echoing and ricocheting with an immense racket. Her eyesight dimmed and she felt the first pang of severe pain before the darkness enveloped her in soothing numbness. Her body collapsed into the man's arms, her listless fingers dropping the sword on the floor with a loud clatter.

The man hesitated as the sound resounded across the ship, and he turned to look back at his fallen comrade. The first man blubbered helplessly, but the second man ignored him and instead rushed out of the cabin. On deck, he lowered Waverly's body into the arms of another partner in crime and then jumped down into the dinghy floating on the dark water's surface. Together, the two grabbed the oars and began the long row to Florin.

The first person to get to Waverly's cabin was Fezzik, who had been observing the stars higher on deck. He raced as fast as he could to where all the commotion was, and when he got there he saw everything.

"Captain!" he yelled. Inigo and Westley immediately came barreling around the corner. Both knew that even though Fezzik was a giant, he hardly ever yelled and when he did, there was a good reason behind it.

All at once they slipped on the wet floor and toppled forward, sliding across the deck and stopping inches before Fezzik's anxious frame. They looked up at him as he pointed into Waverly's cabin. Westley's eyes widened and he impolitely stepped on Inigo's head as he stood and rushed into his daughter's former cabin. He sucked in a breath as the two joined him while Inigo subconsciously rubbed his forehead. It was a few moments before anyone spoke.

"What are we looking at?" Inigo asked, frowning.

"Nothing, but there is—" Fezzik began in his deep guttural voice.

"Exactly!" Westley said. "Where's Waverly? She was sleeping in here and now she's gone!"

"But there's—" Fezzik tried again, but was interrupted.

"Perhaps she took a stroll?" Inigo suggested.

Westley shook his head. "She fell right asleep as I put her in bed!" he insisted.

"There's someone else in there!" Fezzik yelled. His words had no effect on the other two, who were brooding in silence. Suddenly Inigo raised a finger and his eyes widened.

"You hear that?" he asked, turning to Westley.

"There's someone else in there!" Westley cried, amazed. Fezzik could only shake his head. Inigo led the way as they walked inside and found the man Waverly had stabbed whimpering on the floor behind the room's only desk. Inigo promptly bent, hauled the man to his feet and slammed him against the wall. His hand closed around the wounded man's throat.

"Speak! Where is Waverly?" Inigo shouted. The man shook his head awkwardly and pointed to his throat, indicating he couldn't talk because of Inigo's hold on him. Inigo didn't catch his drift and continued to interrogate him despite the man's waving hand motions. When no replies came forth and the man began to grow still, Inigo growled in frustration.

Westley frowned. "You're not doing that right. Here, let me show you how it's done."

Inigo nodded and released the man, who slumped against the wall gasping for air. Westley then bent, hauled the man to his feet once more and slammed him against the wall. He closed his own hand over the man's throat.

"Where's my daughter?"

The wounded man rolled his eyes and then fell limp as Westley released him in disgust.

"He must have taken a pledge of secrecy," he stated, staring at the man's body in the same way one would eye a pile of cow dung.

"Must've," Inigo agreed. Suddenly, there was another shout by Fezzik. The two went running again, slipping and sliding across the slippery wood. This time, they managed to stay upright as they halted before the giant who stood at the side of the boat, pointing over the side into the water.

"There's a boat out there! I can see it! They must have Waverly!" Fezzik shouted. A second later, Westley had jumped over the side and was swimming desperately in the wrong direction. Inigo and Fezzik could see him struggling to stay afloat since his sword weighed him down. They could also hear him muttering that he'd save his daughter if it were the last thing he ever did. And it might well have been the last thing he'd ever say, for a shrill shriek resonated through the air.

"Westley!" Inigo called down at his friend, who was swimming in circles.

"What?" Westley answered in annoyance.

"Did you know there are shrieking eels in there that could kill you alive?" Inigo said.

Westley paused and turned around to look up at him. "Kill me alive or kill me dead?" he asked.

"Oh, my mistake," Inigo admonished. He cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted. "Kill you dead! Did you know there are shrieking eels in there that could kill you dead?"

"Well I wouldn't have jumped in if there were shrieking eels in here that could kill me dead, now would I?"

"No, I suppose not—" Inigo considered.

"PULL ME UP!" Westley screamed as Inigo finally snapped out of it and went to action. He tossed a rope out to his friend and pulled him in and over the side of the boat.

Westley and Inigo panted as they collapsed onto the deck, breathing hard.

"What can we do now?" Inigo asked between breaths.

"What _can_ we do?" Westley repeated miserably. "If Buttercup finds out about this, I'm doomed!"

"Well maybe we don't have to tell her," Fezzik said, staring down at them.

"What do you mean? Of course I'll have to tell her! I mean, it's not like I can just return without Waverly! She'll suspect _something_!" Westley exploded.

"I think what Fezzik is trying to say is that if we rescue Waverly, Buttercup will never know what happened," Inigo said.

Westley sighed in aggravation. "Didn't we just establish the fact that we don't know what to do now to save her?!" he burst out.

"Oh…yeah," Inigo breathed, nodding in remembrance of their conversation.

"Hey! Maybe we can raise the anchor and go after them! This _is_ a ship right?" Fezzik suggested. Westley jumped up and hugged Fezzik.

"Fezzik, you're a genius!" he exclaimed. Inigo sprung up beside him.

"And this _is_ a fast ship. We should be able to catch them in no time!" He raced along the deck, slipped and fell twice, but continued anyway to rouse his crew and set off after Waverly and her captors.

_A/N: Oh no! What's going to happen? Guess you'll have to continue reading! And sorry for the cliffie…I'm pretty amazing at putting those in just to annoy people. Lol I love cliffhangers! Although appreciate the length of this chapter; I was thinking of leaving it shorter so then it would build even more suspense. But, I didn't! Yay! I love how Fezzik is smarter than all of them…it amuses me. See, I got a little humor going! What do you think of it, eh?_


	4. Poof! It's a Miracle

_A/N: Yay! More people like this story! That's awesome! Thank you so much __Zaeryth__ and __LadyLapisLazuli__! Now I can update for lots of people! (well…only four or so as I know, but that's still amazingly exciting! Woot!) And you guys are in luck; I've written a lot of this story already so my updates seem pretty quick right now. However, once the updating starts catching up with me…eep! Guess I'll have to get back to writing! I know where this story's going, but I kinda lost the inspiration to write it. I should probably watch the movie again then, eh? Well, have fun with this chapter; I know I had fun writing it!_

Chapter 4: Poof! It's a Miracle

Waverly felt a pounding in her head as she stirred suddenly, trying to remember over the dull thud what had happened. The details were foggy and she winced as voices screamed through her fatigued mind. There was a scraping noise and then her body jerked strangely. Groggily, she opened her eyes and tried to make out her surroundings. It was too dark for her fuzzy vision, so she instead concentrated on her hearing.

"That ship's closing in fast! Where's the coach? Come on, we have to get out of here!"

Waverly scrunched up her faced as she realized she vaguely recognized the voice. The fight on the ship slammed back into her head and she gasped aloud. Too late did she realize her error as she clapped her hand over her mouth. Unfortunately, one of the henchmen had figured out that she was awake.

"Hey, the girl's coming around!" he shouted. There was a round of curses and Waverly felt her body get picked up roughly and shoved over something. An arm clamped around her back and she assumed that someone had thrown her over their shoulder. Her body bumped and she heard the sound of a boot stamp down on dirt. Her fists clenched as they dangled over the edge of one of the kidnappers' bodies, and she willed herself to muster a punch. Her thoughts came too late.

Before she could even gather herself, Waverly began bouncing up and down rapidly, and she heard the clomp of a foot on the earth running quickly. Then in the distance came the resonating cry of a startled horse and the unmistakable sound of a whip cracking. Waverly heard a rush of voices whose words were lost on her fading awareness, and then she was flying through the air. She hit the back of a padded wall and lost her grip on reality. Darkness wrapped her up in its cold embrace as the men jumped in and were jostled along as the coach sped away.

* * *

Westley cursed ardently as he watched the dust of the coach settle on the ground. He ran a hand through his dripping blond hair and tried desperately to think what he could do. Inigo and Fezzik joined him and Fezzik swallowed up his shoulder with a huge, comforting hand.

"What can I do now?" Westley wondered miserably, trying to gauge his wife's reaction to the news that he had let their daughter get kidnapped.

"It's not over yet," Fezzik stated wisely, staring down at him with huge, doleful eyes. Westley shook his head sadly.

"Yes, my friend, perk up," Inigo added supportively. "You rescued Buttercup, did you not? And then you couldn't even walk! You're a smart man, Westley, you can save your daughter." Westley grinned slightly at him and heaved a sigh.

"I guess you're right then. But what about Buttercup? She has to know, doesn't she?"

Fezzik nodded and Inigo suddenly smiled. He, too, lay a hand on Westley's other shoulder.

"Go, now. I will go tell Buttercup what happened, and that you're tracking Waverly and you will rescue her."

Westley glanced up at him in amazement. "Are you mad? She'll kill you!"

"But not as badly as she will kill you."

"True," Westley acquiesced with a small nod. "But are you sure, Inigo? I mean, you said you would love to go on another adventure…"

Inigo was silent for a moment as he sought the right words to explain his situation. "Yes, well, I owe you. You see, it was some of my own hand-picked men who took Waverly. It's essentially my fault. And as much as I would rather repay this debt to you by fighting at your side, I need to make my men realize that this can never happen again. I am still the Dread Pirate Roberts, after all, and if I let them get away with this, then there could be worse things in the future." Westley nodded in somber understanding and turned to gaze up at Fezzik.

"Does that mean you're coming with me?"

The giant's face was thoughtful as he considered the options. Finally, his mouth broadened into a grin and he wrapped his arms around Inigo.

"Goodbye, my friend. I will go help save Little Buttercup! And don't forget that you're the Dread Pirate Roberts!"

Inigo gasped as Fezzik released him, but smiled up at the giant nevertheless.

"Good luck," Inigo murmured, bowing his head to Westley and smiling fondly at Fezzik before turning on his heel. With one last salute, he stalked back to the dinghy and ordered some of his men to row back to the ship. They looked at Westley and Fezzik curiously, but a harsh glare from their captain got the oars churning in the water. Westley and Fezzik watched them depart for a moment before gathering their wits.

"Okay, so what's the plan?" Fezzik asked. Westley's face was scrunched in thought as he took a great gulp of air and straightened.

"Alright, so we can assume they're bringing her to Humperdinck right?" Fezzik nodded emphatically. "That means we have to find the way that they're going so we can beat them to it. So we need a map and a really fast vehicle of some kind." Westley drummed his fingers on his head. "Now where could we get those things?"

"Well, we could try to find Miracle Max again," Fezzik suggested.

"I was thinking that too, but it would be way out of the way. Besides, we don't know if he's even there anymore! Face it, we need a miracle!" Westley exclaimed in discouragement.

"Did I hear someone say they needed a miracle? Well 'POOF!' I'm here," came a dry, humorless voice. Westley and Fezzik turned around and gasped in astonishment. Their eyes bugged out and their jaws fell open as the decrepit figure of Miracle Max removed himself from the night shadows.

"Now that's not very polite," Max remarked, eyeing their faces with a disgusted expression. "I've seen frogs politer than that. My own _wife _has been politer than that!" he cried, throwing his hands up into the air. Westley and Fezzik continued to gawk at him and Max shook his head. "Always with the geniuses," he muttered to himself as he rolled his eyes and turned his back on the two speechless, frozen forms behind him. Westley was the first to recover, and he sprang forward and hooked a finger on Max's voluminous sleeve. Max halted in place and turned to Westley with pursed lips.

"What are you doing here?" Westley asked him breathlessly.

Max cocked his head. "Didn't you hear? I'm on the miracle patrol. I've taken to fairy-godmothering poor, stupid souls who need all the stinkin' help they can get. What do you think?"

Westley shook his head in utter confusion. Max sighed heavily as Westley raised an eyebrow.

"Why am I asking you? What, you think it's weird for a man my age to be prowling around alone in the dark in a strange place? Well of course you would! _That_ one's still staring for Pete's sake, whoever that Pete guy is anyways," Max grumbled, pointing to the motionless Fezzik who was too stunned with this 'miracle' to even take a step. "Your intelligence is overwhelming," Max pointed out wryly, smiling grimly at Fezzik and then at Westley, who was eyeing him shrewdly.

"What _are_ you doing here?" Westley asked him earnestly.

Max shrugged. "Oh nothing…and everything all at once! Wife—one simple word that means hell to any man!" Max scoffed and brought his hands to his face, murmuring to himself. Then suddenly he was wagging a pointed finger at Westley. "Whatever you do, don't get married! Then you won't be stuck with a woman who one day decides it's a swell time to pack up your entire home to go see the world! Only took nine decades for that inspiration! And now we're here at the coast where it's cold and it smells and there are dirty old inns and stifling sea air. _That _is what I'm doing out here in this godforsaken awful place. Don't even ask why I'm taking a walk along the beach! Let's just say earlier wasn't pretty and I needed to clear my mind." Max huffed and smacked his lips, suddenly seeming to remember the point of his tale.

"So, moral of the story; make life easier and stay away from women! Gah! How can anyone ever live with 'em?" Max chuckled cynically, laughing outright as Westley raised his finger with the wedding band securely attached. "Which girl snagged you from the bachelor pad?" Max laughed cheerlessly. Westley gave a lopsided grin.

"My love, Buttercup." Westley said, and then frowned. "Don't you remember me at all? You know, true love Westley? Anything ring a bell?"

"Oh, yeah yeah. It's you, whoop-di-do." Max waved his hand absentmindedly as if he had known all along. "Hey I'm a poet and I didn't even know it," Max continued, smiling strangely. Then suddenly his expression grew stern. "Seriously, what do you want?" His old eyes bored into Westley's, who sighed sadly.

"My daughter, Waverly, was kidnapped by men who we think are bringing her to Humperdinck."

"Hmm…you actually think? You want me to believe that?"

"Yes!" Westley cried in exasperation.

"Meh, I'm just joking with you. Not much of a funny man, are you? Well anyways, you need my help knowing where they're going and getting a fast ride there, right?"

Westley nodded vigorously.

"Well I can't help you." Max answered. Westley scoffed in disbelief. Max shrugged again. "Like I said, wife's got me on a 'vacation'. Doesn't want me doing magic…can you believe her? Sorry. 'Suppose you can always check out the little town that I'm staying at, it's only a few miles back. Not the friendliest place, but hey, it works."

"Now if you don't mind, young man, I'd like to get back to my wife. Miss her, I do. Have a nice day…or rather, night. And you might want to get some dry clothes. It's kind of chilly out here." With that, Max stepped forward and disappeared into the deepening gloom.

Westley stared after him in complete amazement. This time, he was the one frozen in shock. Fezzik placed a hand on his shoulder as they stared at the swirling mist settling back into place.

"I think we should go to that town he mentioned," Fezzik said. Westley nodded numbly and allowed Fezzik to guide him through the haze.

_A/N: Hehe…I do amuse myself. I love how I titled this chapter, it still makes me laugh. See why I liked this one? Gosh, I'm in love with sarcasm, so this was great to write. I hope it made you guys laugh! This is really such a lighthearted story now that I think about it, although with the whole underlying 'kidnapping' thing. Meh, I never really got to write humor for anything, so even though it may seem inappropriate at times (although these guys are definitely NOT the brightest crayons in the box, if you get my drift) I will still write some more! And if you guys love this one, you'll love the next one even more!!! Review because it makes me happy and will hopefully inspire me to write!!_


	5. A Place Like No Other

_A/N: Wow! This chapter is freakishly long, at least to me. I don't think I've ever posted one that's five pages on Microsoft Word!! But I just couldn't split it up in any way, so here it is. Oh, and I suppose I should say thank you, iheartmwpp (Kelly) for reviewing, even though she's my friend and it's a given that she will read and review my stories! I'll thank you anyways! Yay! _

Chapter 5: A Place Like No Other

The town Westley and Fezzik found was barely considered a town. Its dwellings were small, shabby huts that seemed a part of the earth, as if they were just huge squares bursting from the ground. The largest building in town was the Meeting House, a place designated as the church, the court, the jail, the celebration and banquet hall, the inn and the marketplace all in one (of course though, not at the same time). The town itself had long since had an appropriate name, seeing as the welcoming sign was so faded that no one could make it out. Thus the affectionate townspeople fondly nicknamed it 'Place', a name that took most of their combined intellectual powers to produce.

Since it was well into the night when Westley and Fezzik stumbled down the main, muddy street, they met no one. Place was entirely deserted, causing Westley's shoulders to slump in further desolation. He had already wasted so much time with Max and then trying to find this stubby town in the dark! He wondered fearfully if Waverly was alright. He needed to find her! And in order to find her, he had to find some means of transport.

Listening carefully, Westley thought he heard the huffs and snorts of dozing horses, and his mind went into action. He paused and listened again, determining the direction. He jabbed out a finger and he and Fezzik went around the back of one of the dwellings and nearly cried out in joy.

There, standing at the far side of a dirt corral surrounded by rotting fences were two thin horses, whose figures were revealed by the lovely moonlight from up above. Westley grimaced and turned to Fezzik, who nodded in unspoken understanding. They both knew that the poor beast who had to carry Fezzik would collapse not feet from where it began.

"Perhaps you can find a carriage or something?" Westley whispered, although he knew these thin creatures probably would not be able to handle that much weight either. He knew, though, that Fezzik understood his need to find his daughter. He was confident that the giant would find some other means of transportation, and if he didn't, he'd simply follow on foot. Raising a hand to his friend, he mentally said goodbye and turned to the corral.

Westley stealthily crept around the outside, searching for any riding gear. It looked like he would be riding bareback, since there was no shed or anything around to provide a bridle or saddle. Westley shrugged. That was fine with him, as long as he could get moving and stop the awful men who had taken his daughter.

Glancing at the horses quickly, Westley squinted through the shadows to try and find a gate. He smiled to himself as he located it not five fence lengths from where the horses slept on their feet. Everything was going according to plan.

He stalked quietly to the gate, scowling in derision at the latch that appeared to be tied to the fence with a piece of moldy string. It fell instantly as he touched it and made a small indent in the soil beneath him.

"Whoops," he muttered as he gently closed the gate behind him, stepping past the crude latch on the ground.

He approached the horses quietly, and one of them opened a lazy eye and threw back its head in surprise. Westley reached out hand to comfort the creature and stepped slowly toward it. The horse eyed him in suspicion, and then cautiously craned its neck forward and sniffed his outstretched palm. It snorted and paced backward in what appeared to be fury that there was no treat to be had.

Westley chuckled to himself and then fell to the ground in shock as the horse screeched shrilly and reared. Behind him, Westley heard a soft growling and he pivoted his head in horror. His eyes met with the yellow ones of a huge, grey wolf, padding toward him. Westley saw the gate swing open to submit more of its pack, and he cursed to himself. Scrambling to his feet, he drew his sword. The horses to his back now were both wide awake and whinnying anxiously. Their piercing neighs hurt his ears and he cursed himself again. He was in for it now.

Suddenly the wolf lunged. Westley caught it in its gut, and it whimpered in pain as its body collapsed to the ground. The rest of the pack approached their leader, and sniffing him, turned their attention to Westley. As they slinked forward, Westley realized they were cornering him and the horses.

There came a loud neigh behind him and Westley had to duck as a flailing hoof came close to impaling him. The back of the house all of a sudden burst open, spilling the corral with dim candlelight held in the trembling hand of a large man dressed in a flannel nightgown. His nightcap flopped over a mop of brown hair as he hopped down the steps, brandishing a large, thick branch.

"Ilse! Kids! Get out here! The wolves are back!" the man cried in a harsh voice.

Westley stared in amazement as a woman and a young boy and girl appeared behind the man, similarly dressed in night clothes. Once outside, they began to pick up stones and small-to-medium-sized rocks near the house and immediately chucked them at the remaining pack of wolves. The man dashed forward with a battle cry, swiping his stick through the air as the wolves yelped. With a backward glance at their fallen leader, the wolves retreated through the gate and ran back into the woods.

Westley could only sit, dumbfounded, in the dirt. His sword glinted in the pale, flickering light of the candle and the man seemed to just notice him. Westley was speechless as the man approached him. Inside, his heart was cold. He had gotten caught in the act and his punishment would only further delay him from rescuing Waverly. He hung his head.

"Now what's this eh?" the burly man said as he approached Westley, squinting down at him with a gnarly face. He gasped aloud as his feeble light illuminated the wolf Westley had slain. His wide eyes traveled from the wolf to Westley's bloody sword and back again.

"You killed 'im!" the man exclaimed. Westley frowned and glanced up at the towering, bedraggled figure above him. His eyes widened as he realized the man was not angry, for a huge grin had split his scruffy, craggy face. The man reached down a hand which Westley accepted hesitantly. Immediately, the man clapped him hard on the back, nearly sending Westley sprawling. The man then pointed down at the wolf.

"See that there? That's Ruff, biggest, meanest wolf out there. An' you killed him! Saved me horses, you did. Right then, you is a true hero, eh?"

Westley was stunned that the man didn't seem to realize he had been trying to steal his horses. The only thing that seemed to penetrate the man's thick skull was the fact that the 'big, mean Ruff' was dead. Indeed, he even did a little victory dance for Westley, whose eyebrows raised as he attempted to smile in politeness. The man put an arm on Westley's shoulders and steered him toward the house.

"Hey Ilse!" he bellowed, making Westley cringe.

"Hey what?" the woman answered just as loud, even though they were not five feet apart.

"Put some tea on love, ole Ruff's gone down to the Devil!"

The woman nodded and disappeared into the house.

"Really Pa?" the boy piped up in excitement, bouncing up beside his father. The man reached down and tousled his hair with a chuckle.

"Me friend here did the dirty job, ole Lech has got to admit!" he said candidly as the girl came to stand before them and stared up at the still-stunned Westley.

"Ooh…who are you?" she asked in a loud, high-pitched voice. Westley's lips stretched over his mouth, the only reaction he could seem to muster at the moment.

"Now, now Nana, let the man inside! It's cold out here! You must be a chilly fellow! Now let's set you up by the fire here!"

Before Westley could protest, the man was pushing him inside the house and toward a small hearth where a kettle was steaming over a small fire. Surrounding the hearth were a few wooden chairs and a table stood off in one corner. Westley saw a doorway leading off to another room, and swallowed guiltily at noticing how little possessions these people had.

The woman, Ilse, was bustling around trying to make room in front of the fire. She turned and bowed slightly at Westley who dipped his head. Westley eyed her carefully, noting her clean face yet unkempt golden hair pulled back in a bun that was falling out. She seemed quite young compared to her husband, although when her thin, pink lips parted in a smile, Westley could see wrinkles around the corners of her eyes and mouth. From behind came the slam of the door and the small family plus Westley huddled near the flames.

"Well now friend, I suppose it's time to be introducin' us all. My name is Lech." the man named Lech said, extending an arm to his family. "This here's my wife, Ilse." Ilse smiled warmly and rubbed her chilled hands on an apron that might have once been white, but was covered with so many stains it was hard to tell.

"I'm Bo!" cried the boy as he jumped up in Westley's face. Westley stumbled back in surprise as the girl pounced on him.

"And I'm Nana! We're twins!" she announced excitedly. Westley stared at her freckled, rosy face and then to the boy, whose face was practically identical. Framing their small, shining faces was a mass of tangled, dirty blond curls. They both grinned and Westley's lips twitched into a charmed smile at seeing their similar buck teeth.

All of them were adorned in ugly, brown nightgowns of sorts, but only Lech had on a nightcap. He smiled down at Westley as he pried his children off his chest. Westley attempted his own smile and actually found one on his face as Bo and Nana reappeared before his eyes.

"Guess—" Bo started.

"—what?" Nana finished.

"What?" Westley asked, amused at how they finished one another's sentences.

"Say our names—"

"—together, no pauses!" Nana squealed in delight. Westley frowned.

"But why?" he wondered aloud.

"Just do it!" the children cried simultaneously. Westley found himself grinning despite everything, and he nodded slightly.

"Alright…Nana, Bo."

"No!" Bo said, shaking his head.

"Start with Bo's name!" Nana commanded, practically shrieking. Westley took a deep breath.

"BoNana," he stated and then laughed outright. "BoNana? As in banana?" he asked, his face disbelieving. The children nodded so vigorously he thought their heads would fly off.

"Our mother—"

"—loved bananas so much—"

"—that she named us after them!" they giggled gleefully.

"Even though she only ever had one in her entire life!" Nana finished, a little subdued. Westley blew air from his nose at this strange news when the children's faces disappeared from view and were replaced by Lech, who reached down a hand to help him. Westley murmured his thanks as Lech hauled him to his feet.

"Sorry bout the younglings. They like new people," Lech explained kindly. He turned to Bo and Nana, who were standing with such pathetically sad faces Westley nearly chuckled out loud. Lech was stern as he looked down at both of them.

"Now now yous, off to bed! You wanta be well rested for the celebration tomorrow!" he said, waving his arms for effect. The children glumly stared at their feet and, pouting, trudged to their rooms. Westley, startled, glanced over at Lech.

"What celebration?" he asked. Lech looked at him and smiled broadly.

"Why, the celebration for you of course!" he said matter-of-factly.

"What?" Westley exclaimed.

"Well you're the hero here, ya see. Our whole town here got together a while ago and said whoever kills any of them wolves will get a celebration in their honor. Those nasty wolves have been terrorizing our livestock for many a month now, and no one has so much hurt one of 'em to make 'em bleed! An' here you are, with your bloody sword that took down the biggest one of 'em all! Surely Place is goin' ta have a celebration to remember for decades!" Lech clarified with a flourish. Westley felt faint.

"But I can't stay—" he began.

"Ah come now, I've already sent Ilse out to tell the mothers to prepare a feast. Ya have ta stay!" Lech interrupted.

Westley shook his head. "You don't understand! I have to rescue my daughter! She was kidnapped you see and—"

"Kidnapped you say? Oh now, I'm sure she's alright."

"How on earth can you say that?" Westley cried in indignation. Lech put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Seems to me that if your girl was kidnapped, they wanted her alive. Else they would've just done away with her from the beginning, ya?"

Westley opened his mouth to protest but suddenly realized that what Lech said made some sense. Even so, he couldn't quell the awful feeling inside. She could still be hurt…

"I have to—" he started once more, but this time Ilse bustled through the front door.

"Oh now can you believe this!" she called out. Lech went to her as she removed a shawl and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair.

"What is it, love?" Lech asked anxiously. Ilse wrung her hands, shivering dramatically.

"A few houses down now caught someone trying to steal their big ox. And guess who it was?"

Lech caught his breath in excitement. Ilse's face tensed and Lech unclenched his hands.

"WHO WAS IT?" he burst out impatiently. Ilse smiled and looked at him coyly.

"A giant!" she whispered harshly. Westley smacked his head with his hand, not willing to believe that this was happening.

"How big?" Lech was demanding breathlessly. Ilse raised her hand high.

"As tall as ten buildings standing up on top of each other! His arms are as thick as a man and his eyes as huge as saucers!" Ilse exclaimed vividly, dancing around all over the place. Westley shook his head and wondered who he could consider a bigger idiot: the wife with her crazy movements or her slack-jawed husband who was drinking in every word with wide eyes.

"So that means there'll be a trial tomorrow too!" Lech realized suddenly, jumping up and hugging his wife exuberantly.

"There hasn't been this much excitement in Place since Milton forgot he was married!" Lech continued. Westley sank into one of their chairs, all of a sudden incredibly exhausted. The couple stopped hopping up and down and went to Westley.

"Is it alright if I told the others that your name is Bran?" Ilse asked, kneeling beside Westley, who eyed her strangely.

"What?" he asked, knowing that her explanation probably wouldn't make any more sense than the current situation did.

"Well, you look like a Bran to me, and you never did tell us your real name," Ilse explained shyly, lowering her gaze. Lech patted her gently and implored Westley with pleading eyes. Westley sighed.

"That's fine, although my name's really Westley by the way." He brought a hand to his head and rubbed his aching temples.

"Ah now, you must be tired. An' good hosts we are, just standin' here doin' nuthin'! Well here Westley, you can come sleep in our bed. We ain't goin' ta sleep anytime soon!" Lech said, helping Westley stand. Westley didn't even bother trying to tell them that he couldn't stay. All he knew was that he was dead tired, and he'd find a way out of this mess when he had some sleep behind him.

With that last thought, Westley thanked Lech and went through the doorway. On one side of the room, there was a large stack of animal furs that he could only guess was the bed. Westley sank into them gratefully and almost instantly fell asleep.

_A/N: I had lots of fun writing this chapter. I made up so many funny things that still make me laugh, despite the fact that I wrote them… Oh, and I should make mention that I borrowed the name 'Place' from the fanfiction Harry Potter and the story that did no sense. That's a wicked funny story that I highly recommend! As for this one, hoped you liked it as much as I did! And eesh…I gotta start writing more or this story is going to catch up with me! Anyways, review and all that jazz my loves!_


	6. Everyone Come Here

_A/N: Haha…this chapter makes me laugh too. Hope you like this!_

Chapter 6: Everyone Come Here 

"MMMphm!" Westley cried out anxiously, but the gag in his mouth was firmly in place. It was not like Buttercup would listen anyway. She had already tied him up good to his favorite kitchen chair—a terrible irony, he thought—and now she was just standing there glowering at him.

Indeed, her eyes seemed to catch flame as she stared down at him.

"HOW DARE YOU LET OUR DAUGHTER GET KIDNAPPED??!!" she roared in an inhuman voice. Westley cringed and could offer no excuse. He wished that at least he could tell her he was trying to rescue Waverly, but it was no use. Then suddenly he cocked his head and frowned.

"Hi Westley!" Fezzik exclaimed in the background. He was twirling round and round with a wolf, which miraculously was standing on two legs. The 'couple' sashayed around the room and right in front of Buttercup, who didn't even notice.

Westley's eyes widened in surprise as a thin horse randomly appeared sitting in a chair and began clicking its front hooves together in rhythm. Fezzik and the wolf took this new beat in stride and began to dip and spin one another, although the wolf was having a hard time trying to get Fezzik under its furry arm.

As Westley looked on, Fezzik suddenly grew. Up and up he stretched, breaking through the wooden ceiling effortlessly. Westley screamed into his gag; Fezzik was ruining his new house! Fezzik then reached down calmly and scooped up the wolf in his humongous hand. He began to stroke it softly, fondly repeating the word "Ruff-ruff!" over and over again as if this were a completely normal thing to do.

Westley shook his head at the bizarre scene and glanced back up at Buttercup who seemed to be frozen in place, a mask of terrible wrath imprinted on her face. With her attention diverted, he began to wriggle against his bonds to see if they would come loose, when all of a sudden, he found himself staring down at a banana on the floor. Where that had come from, he had no idea. But then the peel opened and the thing began to talk!

"Bran, Bran wake up!" it cried, seeming to have two voices. Westley stared at it in fear and then gasped into his gag as it flew into the air. The tip of the banana jabbed him in the stomach and then backed up and jabbed him again. He cried out in pain as the thing poked him hard and he squirmed in discomfort.

Westley opened his eyes.

"Bran, Bran! Get up!" Bo and Nana cried out as they sent their index fingers into the flesh on his stomach. With a growl he sat up and flung them off, subconsciously rubbing the sore spot on his belly. Bo and Nana didn't seem to mind and immediately stood back up again.

"You were a real—"

"—sleepyhead there!"

"We had to poke you—"

"—for awhile to get you to wake up!"

Westley groaned and put a hand over his face. He thought he had only been dreaming, but it appeared this part was in fact, real. With a grunt, Westley lay back into the animal furs and willed the twins to go away. Instead, they commenced poking him again.

"Stop it!" he yelled as he sat up again and glared down at them. Bo and Nana wore pitiful expressions that begged sympathy and Westley had to keep himself from rolling his eyes.

"Boy, you're a—"

"—real grump in the morning!" Nana finished and Bo nodded in agreement. Before Westley knew what they were doing, the twins had pulled him to his feet.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"The celebration's already started!" Bo exclaimed.

"And they're waiting for you!" Nana added. Westley shook his head and opened his mouth to protest when Bo and Nana forcibly shoved him out of the door and through the house. He was too sleepy and dazed to try and stop them, so he simply let them push him through the front door.

"BRAN!!!" came a deafening yell that blew a gust of wind in his face. Westley's eyes widened as he stared at the immense crowd spread before him. All were chanting his 'name' and he actually shook his head and backed up inside, slamming the door shut.

Bo and Nana looked disappointed at him, but Westley didn't care. There was silence now, and now he could think. But before he could get his brain's gears turning, the twins had opened up the door to thunderous applause and screams. Westley tripped as the two forced him outside and had the nerve to shut and lock the door behind him.

Westley cringed and flattened himself against the smooth wood of the door, his lips twitching into a few petrified smiles. The crowd didn't notice and began to cheer again, louder this time, if possible. Westley plastered himself to the small house behind him and forced his eyes shut.

"I'm dreaming, wake up. I'm dreaming, wake up!" he muttered to himself, wondering why the horrible racket wouldn't go away. Then suddenly, a hand grabbed his and yanked him off the front porch. He was shoved through an immense crowd of people, 'oofing' every time he ran into someone and didn't apologize. As he was pushed through, the crowd slowly began to disperse and he came to be leading them ahead of the pack. Startled and not knowing what else to do, he just walked on. He noticed that on each side of the muddy little street were carts of traveling peddlers hawking their wares. Why in Place, he had no idea.

When he passed by one of them, they grappled at his sleeve and pulled his head down to their mouth's level.

"Want a raisin, Bran?" the grisly man breathed as Westley choked on his rancid breath. The peddler took that as a no, and released him. Westley coughed as he stumbled forward, cringing as the crowd quickly caught up to his long strides. Anxious to keep ahead of them, Westley ran forward, glancing around nervously for where they were all headed. Then he saw it, the huge banner displayed across the top of the doors of the Meeting House that read "EVERYONE COME HERE!" Westley sighed and rolled his eyes, knowing he would regret this very much.

_A/N: Lol, want a raisin, Bran? Haha pun!! Gotta love it, eh? This was a great one to write as well, sorry it's so short! Go weirdass dreams! And I definitely have had my share of weird ones! Review!!_


	7. The Trial

Chapter 7: The Trial

Westley pushed open the wide oak doors with a bang and stared around at the room before him.

Filling up most of the floor space were pews extending to the front where a small table doubled as a judge's bench and a pulpit. Lining the walls of the large room were tables stacked with surplus amounts of food, some of which Westley could honestly say he'd never seen before in his life. Adorning the ceiling and walls were pictures of both religion and celebration. Streamers fluttered from the rafters way up above his head as he became aware of the scent of meat cooking somewhere out back. He craned his neck and smelled loudly, his nostrils picking up the scent wafting in from an open window in the back. He was surprised to admit that it actually smelled quite good!

"Mmmm…" came a loud rumbling behind him. Westley jumped and pivoted around anxiously, grappling for his sword. What met his vision was something that made him scoff aloud.

Right next to the door, poor Fezzik was cram-packed into a jail cell two times too small for such bulk. His entire body was pressed against the steel bars, and his lips were arranged awkwardly as his face was jammed into one of the spaces.

"That smells good doesn't it, Westley?" boomed his deep voice. Westley grinned and shook his head, grimacing slightly as Fezzik attempted to shift his position.

"Are you alright?" he asked the giant. Fezzik tried to nod, but his head was stuck in place. His mouth parted in a smile.

"Oh, I'm fine. It's just the people who put me in this cell that are hurt," he replied.

Westley raised his eyebrows. "Did…_you_ hurt them?" he wondered incredulously. The giant looked affronted and twitched his head vigorously.

"No, of course not! They just worked themselves up trying to get me in here. Two of them actually ran into each other in panic. I decided to save them the trouble and just went up and in here myself."

Westley chuckled humorlessly to himself. "Ah, my dear Fezzik, I hope we can find a way out of here!" he exclaimed as the door suddenly burst open and the crowd began to stream inside, nearly running over Westley in the process of witnessing the giant squished into the tiny prison. There were a number of 'oohs' and 'ahhs' as the crowd gathered around Fezzik while Westley slinked toward the back, his mind working frantically.

All of a sudden, a door boomed in the front and the crowd turned as one to see their Bishop/judge enter the room and ascend the one step leading up to the pulpit. Reluctantly, the townspeople went and settled into their respective pews, leaving Westley and Fezzik in the back.

At the pulpit, the droopy old judge cleared his throat.

"Wot bwings us togeder tooday is a nawty twial for a nawty man," he drawled in a squeaky, old voice that caused Westley to grimace. The audience responded with enthusiastic applause that made the judge swell with pride. "What awe the chawges against da giant?" he continued. One man shakily rose and pointed back to Fezzik with an accusing finger.

"I caught the giant trying to steal my ox, Emily, to take to sacrifice in his sky castle!" he exclaimed. Westley's eyebrows flew off his face as he sucked in a monstrous breath and began to choke quite audibly. The trial went on, undeterred and unaware of the interruption as Westley coughed and slowly got his wind back.

Meanwhile, the judge was nodding.

"I see," he murmured, stroking his wrinkled chin. "What must be done then?"

Another man stood quickly.

"We should sacrifice him like he would sacrifice dear Emily!" he declared loudly.

A woman then rose as others followed the first man's example.

"No, we should cook him and eat him!"

"We should force him to work for us!"

"Force him to eat things!"

"Throw him in the basement and see him rot!"

"See if he can float on the river!"

"Have him hop up and down for days!"

"Make him run around the town twenty times!"

"Tickle his stomach!" The clamor died as the crowd turned simultaneously to a wiry fellow whose eyes darted around frantically. He shrugged helplessly.

"What?" he asked nervously. "I heard that tickling a giant's stomach gives you good luck or something…" he trailed off. Some keys jingled momentarily before the roar of suggestions resumed an instant later.

Westley immediately perked up, his eyes flickering about all the moving bodies crammed into the room. Where was the one with the keys? And then he saw him, standing on the edge of the crowd like a normal person. Westley nearly jumped and clicked his heels together as he let out an ecstatic cry. Finally! He needed to get those keys, get him and Fezzik out of this kooky town and save Waverly! But his joy slid into the pit of his stomach as the lone man was consumed by the jostling crowd. Westley clapped his hands to the side of his head in horror.

"No!" he cursed to himself, squeezing his eyes shut to try and picture the fellow he was after. There, in his mind's eye, he could see the baggy overalls, soiled white shirt and oh! The badge of the sheriff was pinned to his shirt! Perfect!

Westley scanned the crowd and took a deep breath, deciding to literally take the plunge. With a running start, he leaped into the mass of people, dodging flying feet and flailing arms. The rambunctious townspeople were still debating over what to do with Fezzik. Westley caught snatches of details as he scrutinized the crowd for his man.

"Perhaps we should baste him. You know, put him on a spit or something."

"That's ridiculous! He's too big for any of our spit pits! We should tie him to a tree and let crows peck his eyes out."

"Aw, but where's the fun in that?"

"Well, we could always throw rocks at him like that."

"But we'll do that anyways!"

"Good point."

Westley paused to cock his head and frown. What kind of conversation had he just heard? Shaking his head to clear his mind, he darted through the masses and suddenly a sparkle shined in his eye. The badge! He lunged forward, aiming for the keys he saw dangling from what he thought was the man's pocket.

It turned out that it was the sheriff's hand.

Westley grabbed the man's hand roughly and the man jerked in surprise, crunching Westley's wrist in a tight grip.

"Now, whatcha doin' thar fellow? Tryin' to steal me keys?" he bellowed, spewing spittle from his mouth. Westley cringed as the man's breath, laden with alcohol, washed over his face in noxious currents. As Westley took in a breath to reply, he suddenly had the violent urge to cough. He resisted it for a moment, hoping to not draw anymore attention to himself, when finally, he could hold it in no longer.

Choking on his breath, he hacked up like an old hag who had smoked one too many cigars. Westley was aware of the crowd hushing and backing off to leave him and the sheriff in the center of a crude circle. As he continued to hack up a lung, his hand slipped from the sweaty grip of the grisly man across from him. He stumbled backward as a townsperson approached him and clapped him hard on the back.

"Don't worry. He has that effect on people," the newcomer comforted Westley, who nodded grimly. Then a second later, Westley felt the results of the slap on his back.

"Ow!"

A scowl contorted Westley's face as he forced himself to straighten and stare back at the sheriff who was visibly swaying on his feet in a drunken stupor. Westley grimaced in disgust.

"Make way! Wot sheems to be da pwoblem heyah?" suddenly came the squeaky voice of the judge. The crowd parted to let him through and he frowned at the sheriff and then at Westley. "Well?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. The sheriff caught himself as he almost fell over. He raised an arm and gestured dramatically.

"He was…tryin' to take me keys without permission!" he drawled menacingly. The judge's white eyebrows jumped as he eyed Westley shrewdly.

"Wot have you to say for yowself?" he demanded, poking Westley threateningly. Westley retreated from his reach and cleared his throat nervously. He smiled weakly as his mind frantically tried to sort out a lie that would cover up his underlying mission. Unfortunately, the smell of the building and the people inside mixed with the actual _good_-smelling food wafting in from the open window, making a horrible scent stun Westley's senses. He came up with nothing, and his shoulders slumped as he realized he had to tell the truth. He could only pray they wouldn't jail him for too long.

"I was trying to save my friend, the giant there. His name's Fezzik, and I wanted to get him out so that we could go try to save my daughter, who was kidnapped. We just want to skip on out here and…yeah," he finished lamely in one breath, surprised at the feeling of relief coursing through him. The judge nodded thoughtfully, licking his lips.

"Oh owkay then, awight. Go thwen. Give him the keysh," he commanded simply, waving his hands dismissively. Westley gawked at him as the sheriff nodded and dropped the metallic keys into Westley's open palm. Westley stared at them in amazement, completely taken aback by how simple things had turned out.

"Thanks," he muttered to no one in particular as he quickly made work of the situation.

Finding out which key opened the lock to the single jail cell turned out to be more complicated a matter than extracting Fezzik from within the cage itself. The giant finally came out and stood at his full height, stretching and cracking his aching muscles. The people 'oohed' and 'ahhed' in wonder. As Fezzik finished exercising, he gave them all a wide grin and they began clapping.

Westley smiled, not bothering to ponder the strangeness of the people of Place. All of a sudden, a gnarly old woman approached him, grinning wickedly. In her claw-like fingers was clutched a necklace seemingly made entirely of white teeth of all shapes. Westley's eyes widened, but he kept the false smile on his face as she came before him and draped the necklace over his head. He shuddered as it settled about his neck and bowed his head to the woman, smiling all the more. The woman's eyes lit up as she beamed back at him, exposing a row of gums. Westley's eyes widened as he glanced down at the teeth on his necklace and then back to the woman who winked mischievously.

Westley gagged to himself and waved as she disappeared amongst the throng of folks eagerly discussing what to do with themselves. From tidbits of conversation he was able to decipher, it seemed that they would have a food fight and then roast something on a spit, throw it in the river and celebrate by running around the town like lunatics.

Westley couldn't help but grin as Lech, Ilse, Bo and Nana stepped forward from the crowd. Lech put a hand on Westley's shoulder.

"It'll be sad to see ya go, but I imagine your daughter's going ta be needin' ya soon," he said quietly.

"How can I ever repay you for your kindness?" Westley found himself asking.

Lech shrugged it off. "You already repaid us by getting rid of our furry little problem there, or at least a small bit of it. That's enough for me!"

Ilse smiled at Westley as he bent down to see Bo and Nana, who were trying hard not to cry. Westley reached out and gripped their shoulders.

"I promise I'll come back, and with enough bananas for you all!" he pledged, making them laugh. He stood and gladly accepted the family hug as his breath was squeezed out of his lungs. Fezzik joined in and hoisted all of them high, and they were all grinning ear-to-ear as he set them back on the floor.

"Well now, Westley—"

"Bran!" the twins interrupted their father indignantly. He acknowledged the information with a curt nod. "Or Bran as they would say, I guess it's time for ya to be headin' out. I sent a few of the neighbors to get ya some animals to borrow for the time being."

"Thank you so much," Westley thanked him sincerely, his heart filling with gratitude for these quirky but loving people. Lech nodded and pointed to the door.

"And there's a draft horse big enough for you, giant," Lech added.

"Thanks," Fezzik replied, dipping his head. Lech smiled and nodded as Westley and Fezzik slipped out of the door and into the main street. Just before the door closed behind him, Westley swore he heard Ilse comment to her husband: "Too bad. It would've been interesting to see him hop up and down for days on end."

Westley shook his head, but was smiling all the way.

_A/N: Weren't expecting the Impressive Clergyman were you? Lol! Hope I got his lisp right! Thanks for reading, and review s'il vous plait! Por favor?_


	8. Another Miracle? Nah

Chapter 8: Another Miracle? Nah.

Westley and Fezzik were surprised as they ventured out into the street to see none of the crowd seeing them off. All they found was a tattered, covered wagon and two strong draft horses tied to a hitching post waiting for them. Exchanging heartened grins, the men stepped down the stairs. Fezzik went to untie the horses as Westley headed around the back to get inside the carriage and hurry after Waverly when he was interrupted by a cacophony of loud, nasal voices.

"I have never heard a man grouch around so much! You're grousing like an old man!" a woman's voice yelled. As a man's voice hastily replied, Westley rolled his eyes in recognition.

"Well maybe that's because I AM an old man! And an old man who doesn't appreciate getting woken up in the middle of the night by crazy townspeople babbling about a stinkin' dead puppy!!"

"It was a wolf, dear, if you could hear properly. But of course, you can't, right? Too old to hear little ole me?"

Westley peered around the side of the wagon to see another one a little ways next to it. Sure enough, loading the wagon while his wife preached down to him from the front was Miracle Max himself, struggling beneath a heavy load. He exhaled a breath as he finally deposited a large trunk in the back and trod back to the front to grab another one of their parcels. Before stooping down to grab it, Max retorted.

"That's right, woman! Can't hear you at all!" he shouted, then, as he lifted a small wooden box, Westley heard him mutter under his breath: "Though I wish I really couldn't every day." Max chuckled sinisterly to himself and then noticed Westley peeping around his own wagon.

"Eh, why look here. If it isn't true love boy in the flesh! Now, could you help me convince my darling wife that whoever gave her a lungs and a voice was not thinkin' straight?" he snarled grimly.

Westley laughed shortly. "I really don't want to get caught in the middle of this," he admitted, putting up his hands as if to ward off any physical attacks.

"I don't blame you," Max growled as he set the box down in the wagon. Max paused in his loading routine and turned to regard Westley thoughtfully for a moment, stroking his chin.

"Although now thinking about it, boy, I would say you're already caught in the middle of something, ain't ya?"

Westley smiled sadly and nodded.

"Aw, now what's the matter there, true love boy? You look a little down in the dumps," Max's wife Valerie murmured earnestly from her high position.

Max scoffed. "Well of course he's down in the dumps! His daughter's been kidnapped!" he snapped. "And unfortunately, you haven't," he added to himself. Valerie gave him a reproving glance, having heard him perfectly.

"If you want to feel better, then take my advice and _don't_ ask my _dear _husband. He'll just make you more depressed!" she exclaimed sarcastically, hopping down from her seat and coming to stand beside Max whose face reflected disgust but with eyes that shone lovingly.

"What can we do for you then?" she asked sincerely. Westley fumbled for an answer.

"Uh, dear? Might I remind you we can't do anything for this poor fellow."

Max reminded his wife candidly. Valerie gazed at him in confusion and then clapped her hands in sudden realization.

"Oh, right! The 'once-in-a-life-time guarantee' has already been used! We guarantee one miracle per person, and unfortunately for you, that's been takin' up," she stated proudly. Max covered his face with his hands and uttered an 'oi' under his breath. Westley, meanwhile, felt this piece of information hit him solidly in the gut. So he had used his only miracle to come back to life! He was so selfish! He would've given it to his daughter…except that she wouldn't have existed without him being alive…He shook his head and decided to not think about this anymore. He was still wasting time!

"Well it was nice seeing you again," he stammered, politely dipping his head and turning back to his wagon.

"Yeah, _I'm _the one who would make him more depressed," Max said dryly, observing Westley's mood change. Valerie cuffed him on the back of his head.

"Now stop it you! It's not _my_ fault!"

"Oh, it's not your fault for looking at a bloody map and saying 'Oh, let's go to Place! That sounds bloody original!'" Max shrieked in a high-pitched, mocking voice.

"Go ahead, blame me again for your own problems! Why won't you admit that you're just mad at turning into a cynical old man?" Valerie demanded, poking Max in the chest to emphasize her point.

"Because you're the one making me turn into one! It was never my idea to leave the house, but no! Lo and behold you feel some wanderlust in your old, decaying veins!"

"How dare you?"

"How dare _you_?"

Westley sighed as began to walk back to his wagon. He was halted in place suddenly by a finger on his sleeve.

"I'm so sorry about your daughter," Valerie murmured to him, ignoring her husband's face slowly turning crimson in both anger and embarrassment behind them. "I wish we could help, but my husband has insisted upon not doing magic while we're on vacation."

Max uttered an outraged noise, unable to speak his protest because of his reddening face trembling with fury. Westley glanced at Max, but Valerie completely ignored him.

"But," she continued. "I can tell you this: As we were coming to this lovely little town, we passed by a speeding coach that was threatening to careen off the road. Does this sound like something familiar?"

Westley nodded eagerly and Valerie looked pleased with herself.

"And that leads to Humperdinck's castle, right?" he asked impatiently, trying to clarify his direction.

Valerie frowned. "Hmm… I don't know. Perhaps, I should consult a map—"

"Oh no, _you're _not touching another map again!" Max cut in, striding forward to Westley and pushing his wife aside.

"Alright, follow the main road and you will get to Humperdinck's castle, yes. You take a left at the first fork, then a right and a right and then a left again. If you drive into a swamp, then you know you've gone the wrong direction."

Westley gave a stretched smile and nodded, still frowning slightly. Valerie eyed her husband askance and whacked him again.

"Why don't you show him a map or something, you old fart?!"

Max looked like he could strangle something, which he thankfully didn't.

"Because, _dearest_, the map is ours and I don't want to lose it!" Max bristled through clenched jaws. Valerie rolled her eyes.

"Even if we do lose it, which you _are _prone to do, we could always stop and ask for directions. You know, make it more…exciting!" she suggested. Max swallowed a savage impulse to jump at her.

"We are NOT stopping for directions! Now get in the wagon and go!!" he shrieked. Valerie's eyebrows rose, but she complied.

"What is it with men not wanting to ask for directions?" she harrumphed, slumping dejectedly in her seat. Max ignored her comment and turned to Westley again, breathing deeply to calm his rage. Max smiled grimly and nodded his head up at his wife, her arms crossed and a pout on her face as she stubbornly looked away.

"She's something ain't she? Got some nerve! She gets so worked up over nothing! But I suppose we best be headin' out. I DO NOT want to stay in this…Place ever again! Never! Now, do you remember what I said?"

Westley nodded. "I think so. Left, right, right left," he repeated.

Max grunted in confirmation. "Good. And don't go driving in them swamps. It is mighty unpleasant, what with the squishiness and all…well, good luck. May you remain away from women as long as possible! I must go back and kiss me wife, miss her I do. Well, I'll be seeing ya! Bye!"

With a curt wave, Max hopped up beside his wife, snapped his fingers and they disappeared in a poof of smoke that had Westley coughing. He waved his way through the cloud and squinted up at Fezzik.

"What was that all about?" the giant questioned, glancing with a puzzled expression past Westley and seeing nothing.

Westley sighed. "Sometimes, I just don't know. At least we have a direction. Now let's get a move on. Waverly needs us!" Westley cried, settling in the back of the wagon and pointing the way. Fezzik nodded as he went up to the seat and grabbed the reins. He flared the whips with a crack.

"Now we're really coming little Buttercup!" he bellowed as they drove away from Place.


	9. Kidnappers and Their Puns

_A/N: Be happy peoples, because I didn't cut this chapter in half like I was about to! It would've left off at a mad cliffhanger and you probably would've wanted to choke me. But, at least that's not going to happen anymore! Yay! Now if only I were clever enough to come up with a good name for this chapter…_

Chapter 9: Kidnappers and their Puns 

Waverly shivered and pulled her knees closer to her body, glancing out fearfully at the midnight shadows of the forest. No matter how balled up she was or even how close to the campfire she was, she couldn't seem to get warm. Maybe it was the constant ringing in her head distracting her cells, causing them to move at a sluggish pace. Or maybe it was her heart, chilled and afraid.

Never in her life had she felt so alone.

Before, at her home, she had never realized how much her parents had been there for her. She had always thought they cared about each other more than her. But now that she truly was alone, she came to understand all the goodness she had had. And knowing how ungrateful she had been made her feel awful. All she wanted now was her mother or father to nestle into, someone to stroke her hair and tell her that she'd be all right.

But no one was here to help her anymore. All she had for companions were her captors. She had learned their names by now by just listening to their conversation. She had also learned that they really thought she was_ The_ Buttercup, and fortunately for her, she was smart enough to realize that that was the only thing keeping her alive. She would be dead before she would reveal who she really was.

"— had a few complications getting' outta this little lady's room," one of the men was regaling the other across the campfire, jerking his greasy head toward Waverly when he mentioned her.

Both of her captors were seated on opposite sides of Waverly, far enough apart so that she had her own space, but certainly not enough to run.

The man crouching on the right of her went by the name Jack Daniels and was the one who was currently speaking about his escapade on the ship. He was wearing tattered navy pants that cut off at the knees with a billowing ratty what-once-might-have-been-white shirt with a slimy green vest thrown over it all. His face was scruffy, with a start of a new beard growing in on his chin and an under-bite with buck teeth on the bottom. His eyes appeared to be too far apart and almost completely covered by a stained blue bandana attempting to keep his long locks of greasy black hair behind his dirty ears. He had a wiry figure and a pointy nose, and could make anyone sick just by looking at them long enough, considering his face seemed plastered into a permanent scowl.

He had been one of the two who had broken into Waverly's cabin and left his comrade, fatally injured, dying on the floor of her cabin. Just thinking of his pained face and groping, bloody fingers made Waverly shudder. She remembered the feel of the sword slicing through his flesh, and suddenly understood why her mother had prevented her from physically fighting Humperdinck's men.

Jack's companion, Jimmy Dean, was frying sausages over the fire with a skillet. He was much taller than his associate, almost by a foot, and had strong muscles all across his body. His face was very boyish however, with a large protruding jaw and flyaway blond hair that constantly flapped in his face. His nose was pudgy and his eyes were set too close together, but apart from that, he seemed the gentler of the two personality-wise, reminding Waverly of Fezzik. He was wearing a large white muscle shirt and breezy pants that snapped at his ankles.

As Waverly looked on, Jimmy did a little wrist movement that flipped over the sausages. Grinning at his clever trick, he glanced back up at Jack.

"So…where's Waldo then?" he asked innocently. Jack grimaced and pulled a pouch out of the inside of his holey shirt. He screwed off the lid and took a long draught of what could only be hard whiskey. He sputtered slightly as he swallowed wrong.

"He's dead," Jack stated bluntly. Jimmy's eyes widened as he paused in his cooking to gaze up at Jack with a shocked expression.

"Waldo's…dead?"

"Yep."

Jimmy sighed forlornly. "This family's gettin' smaller every day," he muttered. "First it was me ma, then your pa and then my sister and your brother and then my uncle and your aunt and finally my grandmother and your grandfather! Waldo was one of our cousins! Er…wasn't he?"

Jack shrugged. "I think he was our fourth cousin, twice removed."

"Ah. Well that jus' goes to prove the point that we gotta watch out for each other, y'know? We's the only family left, Jack, you and me."

Jack rolled his eyes as Jimmy's voice took on an emotionally choked-up tone. He got a faraway look in his puke-green eyes.

"Remember when we used ta get together on the summers up at the lake? We used ta eat Granny Smith's apples all day long, seeds, stem and all!"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You actually used to eat the _entire _apple?"

Jimmy looked uncomfortable under his cousin's skeptical scrutiny.

"Uh…well…no! Pfft! Of course not!" he said with shifty eyes. Jack rolled his eyes and glanced at Waverly. She glared back at him, hoping to not portray the fear that was tearing at her insides.

Jack scoffed. "What kind o' kidnapping example are you bloomin' settin', Jim? Honestly, this girl ain't a'scairt at all! She's probably laughing at us behind that pretty blonde head!"

Jimmy appeared flustered and blushed, trying to cover up his embarrassment at being chastised by flipping the sausages again.

"Oh would you stop with the bloody sausages already?" Jack boomed, yanking the skillet out of Jimmy's hand and setting it on the ground. He plucked up one of the links and tossed it in his mouth, belching loudly as he gulped noisily.

"Now whar's your manners that momma done taught you?" Jimmy murmured disapprovingly, shutting his mouth as Jack gave him a venomous glance.

"We're not supposed ter be POLITE! We're kidnappers for Pete's sake!!" he bellowed angrily, thirstily sucking down another drink from his pouch. Jimmy bit his lip and lowered his head, chastened. Then he frowned.

"Who is that Pete guy anyways?" he quietly wondered to himself before perking up again. "Remember when we used ta go down to Aunt Sara Lee's farm for her famous bread? 'Member how yummy it was?"

Jack gave a strained smile as he began to caress his temples.

"Oh, and then there was Uncle Orville Redenbacher's popping corn. You remember that?"

Jack said nothing, but continued rubbing his aching head.

"Ah, and sweet little Debbie. She always used to have all kinds of treats with her: cupcakes, pies, every type of goodie possible! And then there was—"

"Hey, Jim?" Jack interrupted with a tense, high voice. Jimmy snapped out of his reverie and gazed up at Jack with a foolish grin.

"Yeah?"

"SHUT YOUR FESTERING GOB YOU NINNY!!"

Jimmy swallowed hard as his eyes welled up with tears. He bit his lip to keep from crying out and turning his face away from Jack, choking on his own emotion. Jack muttered curses to himself and forced a smile on his face as he went to comfort his crybaby of a cousin.

Waverly rolled her eyes and toned out the conversation, thinking, when all of a sudden, she realized their attention was diverted. This was her chance! How stupid they had been to not tie her up or anything! Without hesitation, she stood and began to run as fast as she could into the forest. She passed the carriage and dozing horses at a blistering speed. Behind her, she could hear a surprised cry and then heavy boots clomping after her.

Waverly soon had to open her mouth to breathe. Her lungs burned and her legs ached from such unaccustomed exercise, and she was practically blind running through this forest. She whacked into low-hanging branches and tripped over malicious roots, but always stood back up to keep on running. Her reckless pace seemed unending until quite suddenly, she ran into an object that was not normally inanimate.

The person she knocked into fell backward with the speed of her forceful dash, and she in turn crashed down on top of them. There were moments of confused panic as Waverly struggled to untangle her limbs and separate herself, but it was too late. Jimmy and Jack had been following her trail and easily caught up to her. Waverly glanced at them fearfully as they approached and then crouched behind the person she had bumped into.

For a split second, she and this unknown being locked eyes.

It was a boy, and he looked to be about her age. He had dark, brown curls framed on a wide head. His pointy face was screwed into a savage frown and his blue eyes glittered angrily.

Waverly blinked and ducked behind him without another thought.

Jack and Jimmy jogged up to them and frowned oddly at the boy, who quickly sidestepped out of the way to show he wasn't a part of Waverly's escape. Waverly desperately copied his every move and the boy finally threw up his hands in frustration.

"Stop following me!" he shouted crossly. All of a sudden, he jumped away from her, too quick for her to pursue. Waverly glanced at him with pleading eyes, but he didn't see her anxious gaze.

He had bent down to retrieve a bow that Waverly realized must have been slung over his shoulder when she ran into him. Now, however, the gracefully curved edges were dented and the string was broken. Beside the bow was a bulging satchel of some sort, which the boy quickly snatched up and suspended from his shoulder. The boy then scowled fiercely as his hand brushed across a quiver strapped to his back. Reaching behind him, he skillfully removed a twisted, broken arrow. He glared at her.

"How dare you! This was my birthday present and I was going to go hunt with it! Now what will I tell my father? That some wretched peasant girl destroyed my bow?" he raged.

"She's not just any wretched peasant girl though," Jack suddenly cut in. The boy slowly looked up at him curiously. Jack sneered to see his audience so quickly baited.

"You 'eard of the infamous Buttercup?" Jack asked slyly.

"Of course I have. The whole kingdom knows about her!" the boy scoffed, no longer intrigued. "Why bring her up?"

Jack winked knowingly.

"Well this here girly is she!" he stated proudly, gesturing wildly with his hands.

The boy's dark eyebrows rose. "Are you serious?"

"No joke," Jack replied earnestly.

"We kidnapped her off a boat back near the Florin/Guilder borders," Jimmy added helpfully. The boy considered the evidence and finally stalked forward to glower down at Waverly who was sitting in a miserable ball on the ground, all hope of escape lost.

"Are you really, _The _Buttercup?" he demanded. Waverly pursed her lips shut and answered by staring daggers up at him, hoping to belie her internal torment. He seemed to believe her venomous, defiant look as he backed off slightly. Then, he paused and regarded her leeringly.

"Funny, but I always pictured you being taller," he spat acidly.

"And I always pictured _you _being more attractive!" Waverly retorted spitefully before she was able to stop herself. The boy was taken aback by her sudden outburst, and for a moment registered only shock on his face. Then the expression disappeared to be replaced by a scornful mask.

"Do you even know who I am?"

Waverly clenched her jaw and stubbornly turned away from his smug face. The boy jeered disparagingly.

"Well, be at peace to know, _Buttercup, _that you are facing the son of your most hated adversary. I am Prince Gil of Florin, son of King Humperdinck, and I laugh in the face of your pathetic defeat!"

Waverly felt like she had been slapped in the face. Not only was this right out of the blue, but the information itself was completely new to her. King Humperdinck…had a son? It was too terrible to imagine! And yet the boy had the arrogance that would match her parents' description of their despised nemesis. It didn't make sense! But as Waverly glanced out of the corner of her eye at him, she noticed the velvet brocade on his royal purple vest over a beautifully woven green chemise. His breeches were made of satin, and even his leather boots were so meticulously sewn she couldn't see the seams. It all added up, and still against her favor.

"You're Prince Engilbert?" Jimmy wondered in puzzlement a few moments later. The Prince blushed as Waverly couldn't help but snort deridingly. If that didn't give it away, then nothing would!

Seeing the Prince's indignation, Jack hastily interrupted his cousin to make amends.

"My apologies, your Highness. My cousin here don't really have manners," Jack said sheepishly as he gave Jimmy a fierce look which shut him up immediately. "We were just going to take this little…capture over on down to your father's castle and…" he trailed off.

"And collect the handsome reward?" the Prince suggested, smiling grimly as Jack nodded eagerly.

"Well yes—" Jack stammered.

"You do know how close you are then, to the castle?"

"Umm…of course! I knew that!" Jack cried out unconvincingly.

"You know, I told you we should've stopped fer directions," Jimmy murmured and cringed as Jack gave him a malicious glare.

Jimmy shrugged. "Well I did tell you—"

"We didn't need to ask fer directions! Now shut yer face!" Jack exploded.

"What is it with men asking for directions?" Jimmy muttered under his breath, grinning haughtily at the Prince, who seemed to have just come up with a good idea. He nodded briskly.

"Alright then. I will accompany you back to the castle, and you will present her _my _way, understand?"

Jack held up a protesting finger and the Prince quickly silenced him.

"Don't worry, you'll still get your reward. But _only _if you follow my lead. Get it? Good." The Prince picked up his bow and re-strapped his quiver onto his back. He began to stride forward as Jack and Jimmy glanced askance at one another, still a little confused as to what was happening.

The Prince meanwhile had gone a few feet and realized he needed something.

"Do you…erm…kidnappers have a cart of some kind?"

"Oh yeh, we've got a coach!" Jimmy piped up. The Prince nodded.

"Grab her then and let's go," he ordered. Jack frowned darkly as Jimmy shrugged and yanked Waverly to her feet, squeezing her wrist so hard she cried out. He ignored her pain as Jack, realizing his alternatives, rose and led them to the coach. When they got there, Jimmy shoved Waverly into the back and joined Jack in the driver's seat. The Prince pointed the direction and then clambered in next to Waverly, who was flexing her hand to get circulation back. The Prince took the seat opposite her, depositing his wrecked bow beside him and watching her intently. Waverly attempted to pay no heed to his attention, but it quickly became infuriating.

"If you're royal, then perhaps you know it's not polite to stare," Waverly spat caustically. The Prince began to retort and then was forced to swallow it as the carriage lurched forward. Outside the horses were snorting angrily at being woken, and there were sounds of whips cracking and shouts by the two henchmen. Waverly stared out of the small window in the door for a moment and then back at the Prince, who was attempting to regain his breath. Waverly laughed disdainfully as the Prince shot her a scornful glance.

"Oh, you're _definitely _royal," Waverly muttered, sarcasm dripping off every word. The Prince's lips curled.

"Well I don't believe _you're _really _The_ Buttercup. You're just too juvenile." He grinned wickedly at his supposed triumph. Waverly faked offense and dramatically opened her mouth to cover it with a demure hand.

"My goodness! What an answer. I didn't see that one coming at all," she said patronizingly slow and sweet, as if she were speaking to an infant. She gave him a mocking smile and his jaw visibly tensed.

"Look who's talking, Blubberbutt!" the Prince shrieked suddenly. Waverly laughed at his poor attempt at a rejoinder.

"And I'm the one who's…what's that word again? Oh yes, _juvenile. _Sad to say, but you really need to work on your comebacks."

The Prince glowered at her pathetically as Waverly assumed a bored expression. The Prince saw his argument crumbling and slouched in his seat, the malevolent glint in his eye replaced by defeat.

"It's not like I've had a lot of practice," he muttered to himself. Waverly glanced up, interested in this sudden mood swing.

"Oh really? Making excuses for yourself? Or are you too scared to admit you were beaten by a girl?"

The Prince eyed her disbelievingly, cocking his head.

"I am royalty remember? I'm not supposed to talk so cruelly to people. Especially since my dad wouldn't understand it," he added to himself. Waverly laughed shortly, having heard every word.

"So you really are his son," she murmured.

"Although I really wish I wasn't sometimes," the Prince blurted, and then realizing his mistake, tightened his lips in embarrassment. Waverly was a little surprised at his slip-up and floundered for a word to say.

"What about your mother?" she asked, changing the subject. Instead of lightening the mood, the Prince's features seemed to darken even more. He looked down at his boots.

"I never knew her. She died having me and my father won't ever talk about her." His sad tone made Waverly melt.

"I'm sorry," she said apologetically. The Prince waved his hand dismissively as Waverly smiled sadly.

"Yeah, my parents—" she started and then cut off abruptly, choking on her words. She couldn't say anything about them! Some way or another the truth would come out, and she'd be dead!

The Prince noticed her stunned reaction and narrowed his eyes.

"Who are you?" he demanded. Waverly balked.

"Butter…cup of course," she replied weakly. She raised her eyes and met the steely stare of the Prince. Her insides began to shrivel as she saw his skeptical look quickly turning to understanding.

"You're not her, are you?"

Waverly bit her lip, refusing to answer. This refusal only proved the Prince's point. He sighed exasperatedly.

"If you're not Buttercup, then who are you?" he fumed. Waverly fumbled for an answer, but came up short. Her mind was blank. She couldn't think of anything to say that would save her, so she said nothing.

"What's your name? Your _real _name?" the Prince asked gently, his face softening as she began to tremble. Waverly swallowed, but it didn't ease her dry throat.

"Waverly," she answered quietly. Logic told her that if she hadn't known he existed, then he probably didn't know she existed. Her name was just another name, or so she hoped. Apparently, seeing the Prince nodding, that was so.

"Waverly, huh? What kind of name is that?" he wondered aloud, grimacing amusingly. Waverly laughed sincerely.

"And again, look who's talking Prince_ Engilbert_," she said, her voice mocking but in a joking way as she spoke his name. The Prince flushed and Waverly grinned at his discomfiture.

"Honestly, how long did it take your father to think up of that one? Prince _Engilbert_," she teased again, giggling as the Prince blushed even more.

"Call me Gil, alright?" he finally implored her, trying to cease the painful onslaught. But Waverly was in no way done.

"Ah, so _Prince Gil _then?" she taunted. The Prince rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Alright, alright. Just Gil," he condoned at last. Waverly chuckled.

"Gil," Waverly repeated for clarification. Gil nodded. "And you can call me…Waverly," Waverly teased. Gil let an exaggeratedly slow reaction play on his face, one of mock surprise and relief.

"Oh good. I was afraid of what kind of nickname I'd have to contend with. Wavey maybe?" he wondered jokingly. Waverly opened her mouth in shock.

"Never!" she cried. "If you call me that, I'm afraid I'll have to resort to Eaglewart,"

"Ouch," Gil said, feigning a shot to his chest. Waverly laughed as Gil joined her. Suddenly, their light mood was destroyed as the coach halted unexpectedly and the door was thrown open.

"I think we're where you wanted us ter be," Jimmy exclaimed, his grisly face peering into the shadows.

"Oh," Gil began unsurely, and then cleared his throat. "Uh yes! Of course! Take her out then," he ordered. Jimmy nodded and grabbed Waverly roughly. She resisted and gave a last pleading glance to Gil, whose eyes reflected sorrow, but his face was set. Waverly's insides shrunk and she let herself be taken outside.

_A/N: Aww Gil. I'm so proud of how I made his character! And did you guys love all the name puns throughout? I actually had to ask my parents for help with coming up with some of those. Hey, it amuses me. Go puns! AHH!! The title for this chapter is really bad! Oh well… If anyone comes up with something better, it would be much appreciated!! _


	10. Like Father, Unlike Son

_A/N: Thanks, Zaeryth for your reviews! Here's another chapter for you!_

Chapter 10: Like Father…Unlike Son

Outside in the darkness, Waverly could scarcely see a thing. The only light was from dim torches that flickered in the chill wind blowing across the forest. The meager glow served only to illuminate trunks of large oak trees, whose branches reached for the sky. Waverly was at first confused as to why anyone would want to light up a bunch of trees, but then her unspoken question was answered.

In the massive tree before them appeared a door, and out stepped a squat, fat man clutching a similar torch in his trembling hand. He was dressed in gray monk's robes, and had disheveled white hair, full lips and a long nose, all of which had a ghastly sheen to their ethereal pallor. In fact, he was a very ugly man, and one whom Waverly was not too happy to be shoved into the arms of.

"I want you take her and keep her, down there. And…don't do anything yet. Just hold her," Gil commanded mysteriously.

"Oh, you mean throw her in one of the cells and hold onto the key? Of course, your Highness," the albino elucidated. Waverly gasped, her worst fears realized. She turned to beg to Gil, but he had lowered his eyes, shamefaced, and refused to meet her anxious gaze.

Waverly cried out in desperation and struggled against the albino's unfoundedly strong arms. With an annoyed sigh, the albino finally brought up two fingers and pinched the back of her neck. Waverly let out a breath before going limp in his arms. Gil swallowed a little guiltily and turned to Jack and Jimmy, who were watching the episode with rapt attention.

"Come. You will get your reward soon enough. Follow me," he ordered, and then glanced back over his shoulder at the albino, heading for the opening in the tree. "Don't hurt her," he implored. The albino nodded and disappeared into the darkness of the tree, closing the door until all the cracks had vanished. Gil sighed and closed his eyes a moment to clear his head, and then strode forward with a purpose, grabbing one of the torches from the tree to light their way.

Jack and Jimmy followed along obediently as Gil led them around the side of one of the castle's thick outer walls. Gil peered around nervously as he inched closer to the stone and felt along its grainy surface with his hands. He finally appeared to find what he was feeling for when he stepped back, throwing open a hidden door.

Light streamed out as the three slipped inside. Jimmy and Jack found themselves trailing the Prince through a kitchen, weaving between tables, cutlery islands and a large fireplace with scrubbed iron pots suspended over burnt coals. They passed doors, undoubtedly leading to storage rooms and/or freezers, and Jimmy and Jack exchanged glances. This place was huge, and with tons of food and certainly treasure! And this foolish Prince has just shown them a secret way inside! They would definitely return to loot the place in the future.

Grinning eagerly to each other, Gil scoffed silently to himself. They might know a secret entrance, but it was nearly impossible to find it from the outside. Gil had taken the necessary measures to learn the numbers behind locating this passageway, and it hadn't been that easy. They would come back and have no clue whatsoever to how they had gotten in! He bet they didn't even know what side of the castle they had emerged.

Once out of the kitchen, the three crept through the dimly lit halls of the drafty castle. Luckily, the floors were carpeted and absorbed their footfalls. Stealthily, Gil led them through a wide corridor and then up one of the secondary staircases, keeping to the shadows whenever an occasional guard shuffled by. Jimmy and Jack exchanged glances again as they narrowly avoided collision with the night patrol, halted by a harsh whisper from the Prince. Apparently, he was accustomed to sneaking out.

As they rounded the final bend that would take Gil to his chambers where he could keep the henchmen secret until morning, he suddenly froze.

There, sitting outside the door was King Humperdinck, resplendent in a blue satin robe with white pajamas beneath them. Slippers adorned his wide feet as he leaned back in a wooden chair with a massive yawn.

Internally, Gil panicked. He turned to whisper to the men to sneak back, but before he could say anything, Humperdinck spoke.

"Don't think I can't see you there, Engilbert."

Gil groaned inwardly as his father rose and eyed the three blearily.

"Ah, and you even brought some cutthroats along. Goodness, Engilbert, if you wanted to bring cutthroats you could have just come through the main gate instead of sneaking around! Or better yet, in the morning," the King said, stifling a yawn. He motioned for Gil to come closer, and Gil trudged forward guiltily, his head hanging low. Humperdinck glared down sternly at his son. "You know, I very much don't appreciate being woken from a lovely night's sleep with the news that my son has run away again from that awful ugly butler—"

"But I didn't run away!" Gil interrupted. Humperdinck raised a thick eyebrow.

"Oh really? You know, I may not be _that _intelligent, but I am _not _that dumb!"

Gil shook his head vigorously.

"No. You see, I…I hired these men here," Gil gave Jack a warning look as the kidnapper was about to protest, halting his speech, "to go out and capture Buttercup, and I wanted it to be a surprise…for you…in the morning," Gil added, smiling awkwardly at his father, who was frowning. It took Humperdinck a few moments to register this news.

"So, Buttercup is in our possession?" he asked, his tone growing in excitement. Gil nodded and turned to the henchmen and widened his eyes, gesturing for them to contribute to the conversation.

"Oh yeah…we, uh, plucked her right off the boat!" Jimmy exclaimed triumphantly. Humperdinck's eyes lit up as Jack shrugged, agreeing with his cousin. Humperdinck then grinned nastily and clapped his hands, rubbing them together in sick eagerness.

"Finally! Revenge will be sweet!" he whispered. Gil could see malicious plans running through his father's head and suddenly thought about Waverly. He vowed to not let his father harm her, and then realized his father would know she wasn't the real Buttercup. She would be tortured even worse! He shuddered to imagine her anguished cries, and then berated himself. Why was he feeling so guilty about her? It wasn't like _he _had been the one who had physically kidnapped her! And yet he couldn't shake the feeling that he wanted to see her again, uninjured and healthy enough to converse with him. He had never really had someone his own age to talk to…

"—I want to see her, confined!" his father was saying. Gil's heart seized painfully as his father pivoted on his heel to march off and do just that. Gil thought quickly as Jack interjected.

"Uh, your Majesty, we was promised a handsome reward. Might we…see some of it now, perhaps?" Jack asked innocently. Humperdinck glanced back at him and smiled.

"Of course! You men righteously deserve it! Come with me to my vault—"

"Why don't we all go see her instead?" Gil cut in, and then appealed to his father. "You can hear their story tomorrow when you're better rested, but I'm sure you're just dying to see her now, aren't you?" he hinted. Humperdinck looked thoughtful and at last relented.

"You're right. Let's go! I'll pay you gents in the morning, when you can tell me all about your marvelous capture!" Humperdinck said graciously to Jimmy and Jack. "As for right now, I'll alert one of my guards to see you to the master suites, where you two can order anything you like!"

Jimmy and Jack grinned zealously at one another, practically smacking their lips in anticipation. They nodded briskly, very satisfied with the way things were working out for them. Humperdinck signaled one of his men to lead Jimmy and Jack away before turning to his son and letting Gil guide them toward their destination.

Gil headed past his room and came to the main stairway. They descended rapidly, Humperdinck practically skipping with delight. Gil could hear him muttering to himself: "One down, one to go!"

When they finally reached the tree in the forest, the albino humbly opened the door and admitted them, bowing. They trotted down the stairs carved into the wall. Gil pushed past the albino and surged ahead, feigning eagerness as he grabbed a torch from the wall and waved it in front of him. He hoped and prayed his plan would work. Gil headed down the aisle of cells and located the one with Waverly hunched over in the far back corner. He pushed his head up to one of the gaps between the bars.

"Hey Waverly. Turn your face to the wall!" he whispered urgently. He didn't know if she heard or not, because he heard the scuffles of his father approaching, humming happily to himself. He withdrew his face and grinned broadly.

"She's in there," Gil cried loudly, pretending pride. Humperdinck beamed at Gil, not knowing when he had ever been more pleased in whom he considered a dumb, worthless boy…well, almost worthless, he corrected himself. He craned his neck and stretched his eyesight as Gil thrust the torch into the cell. Humperdinck's emotionless brown eyes swept over the illuminated area and lit upon a huddling figure's back, streaked with long blond hair.

"Ha!" Humperdinck laughed triumphantly. "My dear ex-wife, Buttercup, how does it feel being locked up? Not feeling very talkative? Well my son will make you talk!"

Gil started and nearly dropped the torch.

"What?" he gasped. Humperdinck chuckled and patted Gil hard on the shoulder, making him wince.

"You heard me. You're not good for much else, eh? Your sword skills are mediocre, you can barely remember the name of our kingdom of…uh…?"

"Florin?" Gil suggested flatly. Humperdinck snapped his fingers.

"Ah, yes, that's it. And well, you've never tried torture. Let's just see how it works for you. Hey, maybe you'll even find your calling. Who knows? I'll give you a few days _alone_," Humperdinck winked knowingly at Gil, who swallowed dryly and gave a weak smile. Humperdinck nodded in satisfaction and directed his sneering voice at Waverly.

"I'm guessing that's all the time you'll need, if my son actually lives up to my fabulous reputation. And, well, if he doesn't, then I'll just set the machine on you. Still works after all these years. You remember it, I gather?" Humperdinck said slyly. "Oh, you'll squeal on your dirty, rotten, thieving husband before too long! No one can withstand the machine!! Muahahaahaha!!" Humperdinck cackled evilly and then choked on his own saliva. Still choking but pretending he wasn't, he turned on his heel and strutted out of the prison aisle, leaving Gil behind.

Up ahead, Gil heard his father ask the albino a question about greasing the machine, and he shuddered. He bit his lip and sighed, glancing around nervously as he began to undo the straps on his satchel. He took it off his shoulder and placed it through the bars of the cell, scooting it along the dirty floor toward Waverly.

Rising abruptly, he strode back to his father and together, the King and the Prince made their way back to the castle to get some sleep.

_A/N: I hope I got Humperdinck's character alright. Anyways, not much else to say. Until the next chapter…review!_


	11. Black the Bodyguard

_A/N: And another chapter for people who might be reading this! Gosh, I need to write this more! I know how it's going to end…just need to get it there. _

Chapter 11: Black the Bodyguard

Gil woke suddenly in the morning, feeling some strange presence in his room. He sat bolt upright and noticed the intrusion on his sleep. A figure dressed in black had entered his room, but was not overly sneaky about it. Still, Gil didn't want to be robbed in his night clothes!

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice husky from his few hours of sleep. The figure jumped at the noise and turned to him. They hurriedly bowed.

"Pardon, your Highness," the person muttered. Gil blinked his eyes, but no matter how hard he tried, it was impossible to tell if the figure was male or female. Their body's appearance gave away nothing. It didn't help that the person was decked out in complete black garb. Their pants were black, their v-necked blouse and buttons were black. They even had a black eye mask tied around their head and scarf that covered their mouth that was, amazingly, black. The only hint might have been a patch of white skin around their nose that allowed them to breathe, and clear blue eyes that glittered suspiciously.

Gil frowned darkly, not liking the look of this.

"Who are you?" he repeated harshly, prepared to throw off his covers and lunge.

"Black," the person answered simply. Gil coughed.

"What?"

"Black. It's what you can call me," the figure said.

"Black?"

"Black."

"Did you get that from your clothes or were you just being original?" Gil muttered to himself with raised eyebrows. "Well that answers one question," he continued aloud. "That leaves the 'why are you in my room, staring at me while I'm trying to sleep?' question," he stated dryly.

Black bowed clumsily. "Your father… hired me to watch over you,"

Gil cocked his head and smiled in amusement.

"My father?"

"Yes."

"To make sure I don't run away?"

"Yes."

"And you realize my father doesn't give a rat's ass about me?"

That threw Black off. They fumbled for an answer.

"Actually it was that ugly butler," they quickly replied. "He wanted me to say it was your father first, just to be polite."

Gil nodded slowly in realization. That part made sense. But there was something about this person that was disconcerting…he just couldn't figure out what it was. He shrugged and swung his legs over the side of his expansive bed, knowing he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep no matter how badly he wanted to.

Black respectfully averted their gaze as he dressed in dun breeches and a plain, white cotton button-down shirt. He brushed back his curly hair briefly before thrusting his hands in a bowl of water and splashing it over his face. Refreshed, he went over the day's schedule in his mind, smiling to himself.

As he walked out of his chambers and down to the breakfasting hall, he realized Black was following him. Glancing furtively over his shoulder, he frowned. His day would be harder than he thought, but not _that_ much he conceded. He sat at one of the smaller dining tables and helped himself to a few steaming dishes placed in front of him. Black slipped inside and hovered near the door.

Gil decided to test his new guard by eating as slowly as possible. An hour passed, and he had to admit that he was impressed. Black was barely starting to fidget.

"You know, you don't have to just…_stand _there," he implored eventually, slightly irritated. Black shook their head curtly.

"Those were my orders, your Highness, and I intend to obey them."

"But you're going to be bored out of your mind! I'm just going to go out…hunting. You'll just get in the way. Wouldn't you be more amused poking around this huge castle? It's mighty fun to explore," he added with a wink. Black hesitated.

"What about…the prisoner? Aren't you supposed to…torture—"

"No!" Gil cried fiercely, forgetting himself. He swallowed and cleared his throat. "I mean, yes, I know that my father wanted me to, but I'm just not in the mood today. I want to go hunting and test my new bow," he concluded angrily in a voice that allowed no further discussion. But Black was persistent.

"But…the prisoner—?"

Gil clenched his fist, using anger to portray his fear.

"And how would someone like you know about that?" he yelled, infuriated.

"I overheard your father talking," Black answered swiftly.

"Well that's lovely, but you're NOT going to follow me anymore!" Gil screamed defiantly, hoping to scare Black away. They didn't budge and Gil was forced to eat the fury that was seething inside of him.

"I will not defy my orders—"

"To hell with your orders!" Gil bristled. "I'm a Prince, royalty. Don't I get any say in my own life?" Gil pushed out his chair and stomped out of the room. "You better not be following me!" he called savagely over his shoulder. There was a pause as he stopped to listen.

"So you're not going to…hurt the prisoner?" came Black's quivering voice. Gil rounded on them fiercely, for Black was only a few paces behind him.

"It's none of your business! You're dismissed for today!" he ordered. He stalked back up to his room in silent rage. Seeing his twisted bow on the floor where he had left it that morning, he immediately grabbed it and hurled it against the wall. Now his day was ruined! It'd take a miracle to get him out of this mood! He glared down at the broken pieces of his completely destroyed bow and got even angrier, this time at himself.

Why had he lost his cool?

A figure lingered near the door, who Gil noticed out of the corner of his eye. He snatched up the fragments and shoved them into a drawstring pouch hanging on a peg. Dramatically, he sauntered past Black outside the door and headed down the hall with his nose in the air. Halfway down, he halted and theatrically turned to regard Black, staring after him incredulously.

"For your information, I'm going to try to fix this bow or buy a new one. You DON'T need to come, understand? If you do, I think you'll find yourself out of a job very quickly. I have my ways," he threatened icily. Not caring to see Black's reaction, he faced forward and swaggered down the corridor and then down one of the secondary staircases.

Just to be safe, he entered the kitchen. The staff was laboring over lunch, and Gil encouraged them brightly. They gave him warm smiles and chuckled as, grinning, he grabbed some pastries and fruit, which he slipped into his pocket, and stole out of the secret entrance. He was lucky that they didn't care about him sneaking out. They had enough hatred toward his father that they were willing to spite him in any way possible, whether through his own son or not. Gil knew they would never tell his father because of that reason, so he was safe and confident.

Once outside, he glanced around quickly and happily noticing that he had lost his pursuer, strode forward confidently to the oak tree in the forest.

_A/N: GASP!! Who is this Black person? WHO IS IT?? Only I know! Haha…my amazing authoress powers. I've created a mystery…try to guess who it is! I wonder if anyone will get it right…hehe. Review as always, loves. Thanks!_


	12. Fresh Air

Chapter 12: Fresh Air

Waverly felt awful. The prison walls were slimy and black. The floor was made of dirt that smeared on her dress. The air was rank, tainted with rotting wood and a tint of blood. Not to mention the darkness closing in on her, silhouetting the bars that enclosed her and allowed no hope for escape.

Where was her father? Did he know by now? Was he coming to rescue her? And what about her mother? How was the _real _Buttercup reacting to her only daughter's kidnapping?

Waverly didn't know the answers. They were simply questions to be solved. And besides those, there was one in particular tying for first place on her mental list: Was Gil on her side or not?

She was utterly confused on the matter. At their first meeting, he appeared to be her enemy, gloating like the son of the man he was. Then, they were laughing together like two old friends. Then he was back to himself, this time ordering her into a prison where she would weep alone in the darkness with no one to hear her cries. Did it matter that he told the albino not to hurt her? She wasn't sure. Perhaps he was just toying with her, prolonging her eventual agony. Although that thought was far from reassuring, she couldn't help but feel that way. That assumption was proven when he reentered the prison sometime later, boasting of his capture. And then of course, he threw in the offering of food to confuse her even more. Who was he playing at? It seemed that he didn't even know who he was!

Despite Waverly's uncertainty of his intentions, she still felt grieved when he finally left her to her dim loneliness. She watched his shadow retreat down the corridor and felt something tear her insides, finally making way for tears that seemed to flow ceaselessly. Waverly huddled to herself in the dark, dank prison and cried herself to sleep.

The food sat untouched.

She was awakened in the early hours of the morning by a cheerful humming echoing off the walls. With a groan, she opened her eyes and felt fresh sobs threatening to overwhelm her as the reality of her situation came into focus. She had desperately wished she had been dreaming up this part, but the truth of it all was staring in her face.

It was quite annoying, in fact, for the face was hideous in all aspects, as she had seen the albino before. Although the glimpse of him at night had been terrifying enough, to see his leering, flabby, warty skin squinting at her in broad daylight was far worse. Waverly cringed, repulsed, and uttered a disgusted noise.

"Well that's not very nice manners," the albino huffed, straightening and putting his hands on his hips and glaring at her sternly.

Waverly snorted rather impolitely. "Oh, I'm sorry, but I'm not used to seeing such pretty walruses flopping around," shet spat back, summoning courage she didn't even know existed. The albino puffed up in indignation.

"I beg your pardon, missy! Now see here, the Prince may have said not to harm you _physically_, but I know some ways that'll hurt mentally!"

"What, are you going to scream your grating voice at me until my ears fall off?" Waverly scoffed in reply. "You'd do better just standing there. Your ugliness might make my eyes rot out."

The albino visibly calmed himself and smiled sweetly. "I know something that will make you regret your insults! But first you have to wash that blood out of your hair."

Waverly frowned, sensing something dangerous about to happen as the albino disappeared. But all that did happen was the albino returning with a wet rag. He offered it through the bars and Waverly reluctantly grabbed it, willing to clean some of the filth off of herself for the time being.

She carefully washed off the dried blood in her hair, the icky brown crustiness she had not even felt or known was there. The bits fell to the floor as she combed her hair with damp fingers to make sure it was all gone. When she figured she was as clean as she could possibly get, she handed back the rag to the albino. Almost immediately after dropping it in his open palm, she slid to the back of the cell and crouched there, ready to pounce, her eyes darting around fearfully.

The albino appeared moments later hiding something behind his back. Waverly froze in panic. Her heart constricted painfully and her heart pounded in her ears. The albino was grinning fiercely to himself, with an odd glint in his pudgy eyes.

"You wouldn't…" Waverly strained, her voice hushed with fear. The albino's smirk widened as his eyes narrowed.

"Oh I wouldn't, would I?" he said sickly. Waverly suddenly found it difficult to breathe. The albino smiled nauseatingly at her and then brought forth the thing he had been concealing. In his pasty hands were…an easel and pallet of paint, with a brush balanced between his thumb and forefinger.

Waverly's breath whooshed out of her in a sigh of relief. And then she caught herself and sniggered. "You're going to…paint a picture?" she demanded derisively.

The albino gave a satisfied grunt and nodded eagerly. "And not just any picture. This'll win me an award for sure," he said pointedly.

"Wow. A picture of a prisoner? How creative. That'll win for sure!" Waverly mocked with a cynical smile.

"Well aren't you the sweetest!" the albino responded, equally sarcastic. He blew air from his nose. "Despite your foul little mouth, you _are _the prettiest prisoner to ever occupy this cell. I've got to take advantage of this moment, you know. You see, I don't usually get time with prisoners before they're killed. This is an opportunity of a lifetime!"

"Why don't you do us all a favor and return your stinking corpse back to the grave where it belongs?" Waverly retorted acidly.

The albino raised his white eyebrows. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. What a mouth on you! Spewing such insults!" the albino laughed, throwing Waverly off-guard. He resumed humming again as he set up the easel and grabbed a stool. He plopped it down in front of the easel and then eased his large mass onto it.

"Be careful not to break the stool," Waverly muttered to herself, seeing the three legs creak and sag under the man's weight.

The albino, if he heard her comment, chose to ignore it. He wiggled himself to get comfortable.

"What are you doing?" Waverly demanded deridingly.

"For your information," the albino said, flipping to a fresh page, "I am going to express my talent, thank you very much! Painting is very dear to me, albeit with the torturing and all I don't have much time to express myself. So now is quite the ideal!"

He pivoted in his seat to regard Waverly and start to paint her portrait. Waverly gave him a look before springing to her feet and jumping all around.

"Now hold still!" the albino cried out, biting his lip in frustration. His brows furrowed as she continued to skip around within her small space. "Stop moving! Don't make me come in there!" he warned when she continued to bounce about insultingly. Angrily, the albino rose and began to fumble in the pocket of his stained robes. Once he found what he was looking for, he held them up in display.

The keys jingled in his hand as a revolting smile fixed on his features. Waverly halted in place and stared at them unabashedly. She watched attentively as he jammed them into the cell door and opened it wide enough for her to squeeze out of. Then, suddenly, the keys dropped from his hand and skittered a few feet from the opening. The albino made a grab for them, bending down with his gaze averted. Waverly saw her chance and ran for it.

She realized it was a trap too late. The albino was prepared for her rush, and stepped swiftly back in the way, catching her in his arms and pinching the back of her neck. Waverly felt darkness descend upon her as she collapsed forward.

Waverly blinked into consciousness after an unknown amount of time. It seemed indefinite in her world of pitch blackness. As she slowly came back into focus, she was aware of a stinging in her wrists and aching in her upper arms and shoulders as well as a pang in her ankles. Opening her eyes a fragment, she tried to move and found herself unable to comply. She struggled to make her body obey and suddenly realized she was tied to a chair. She grunted in irritation at seeing the door firmly locked again.

With no success, she finally looked up and met the delighted eyes of the albino, eyeing her before turning to stroke his paintbrush across the parchment, adding color to her face. Waverly glared at him.

She wished she hadn't made him come in there. It was so much more uncomfortable than sitting on the cold, wet floor, which seemed impossible, at first. But after even just minutes, she began losing the feeling in her hands and feet. The rope bit into her flesh if she tried to move an inch, and the hard chair made her bottom sore. Her muscles cramped and she was about to relent when a voice interrupted her, a voice she was ecstatic to hear.

"What's going on here?"

Waverly smiled as Gil padded into view, frowning intensely at the albino, who stood hastily and hurriedly smudged the paint on his robes to dry his hands. He bowed awkwardly.

"Your…Highness!" he cried out unsurely. Gil cleared his throat and shifted his eyes to the easel and paint. He cocked his head vaguely and gave a silent command which the albino quickly obeyed. Gathering up his art set under his arm, the albino began to shuffle away.

"The key?" Gil called him back. The albino paused and set down his things, rummaging in his pocket once more and producing the key to the Prince, who snatched it out of his hand. He waved his hands dismissively and the albino hurried off. "You have the day off. Don't come back here! I'm taking her to a special place for torture! I came up with my own ideas," Gil told his retreating form. The albino halted and turned back to him, interested.

"What kind of new ideas of torture, Highness? Might I suggest—?"

"No you may not. These are to be royal secrets, only for royalty, which you are most certainly not. Don't make me fire you. You'll never torture anyone again," Gil threatened, shutting up the albino once and for all. Gil sighed as the albino disappeared out of view.

Waverly, meanwhile, was watching Gil's face intently.

"You're not going to torture me, are you?" she asked quietly. Gil unlocked the door and left it ajar as he came into the cell.

"Of course not," he scoffed softly as he came closer. "Why would you think I would?"

"I don't know what to think anymore," Waverly sighed wistfully, letting show a slight smile.

Gil grinned. "I know how you feel…well actually I don't," he added after a second of consideration. Waverly laughed outright and Gil's smile broadened before fading. "Are you alright, though? I told him…not to hurt you. He didn't did he?"

"Well it's not like I'm sitting on a cushion with fuzzy lubrication on my wrists. Untie me!" Waverly cried out in exasperation.

Gil nodded and then paused as he reached out. "If I untie you, you have to promise me you won't try to run away. If you do, you won't get far. These woods are treacherous, and if my father finds out, he'll send men after you right away. He won't have the "famous Buttercup" in his grasp and just let her slip right through his fingers! Do you promise you won't try anything stupid?"

Waverly swallowed and bit her lip. She knew what he said made sense, though she hated to admit it. Beyond that, she felt reassured that he wouldn't hurt her, and her father had given them a few days alone. They were safe; she had no reason to fear. Besides, she was curious about what Gil had planned for her. This last thought made her blush and she quickly turned her gaze away from him.

"I promise," she stated. Gil nodded in approval and set about untying the rope. Once she was free, she rubbed the sore spots to get feeling back. As she massaged her aching muscles, Gil bent to pick up the satchel of food he had left her the night before.

"You didn't eat anything," he said.

Waverly shook her head. "I was kind of…not hungry," she explained dryly. Gil said nothing, but wordlessly draped it over his shoulder on top of another pouch she hadn't noticed before.

"What's in that other pouch?" she asked inquisitively.

Gil glanced at it and chuckled. "My bow, er, what's left of it," he admitted with a guilty smile. Waverly grinned. Gil extended a hand to help her to her feet and she shyly glanced at it before accepting.

Gil silently led her out of the jail and into the aisle. Instead of turning to the left, however, he steered right. Waverly wondered at this as Gil headed toward a set of crude steps hacked into the dirt at the end of the long cellblock. It seemed that they extended upward into nothing but darkness. Gil proved it otherwise as he confidently ascended them and reached up, pushing open a flap of earth concealing a secret exit. He helped Waverly through and then squeezed out of it himself; it was a pretty tight fit.

Outside in the forest, Waverly threw back her head and gladly breathed in a deep breath of fresh air. Gil smiled at her peaceful expression when she cocked open her eyes in confusion.

"What are we doing?" she asked.

Gil met her gaze. "I just thought…we could have an adventure. Some fun, you know?" he said, adding "_While I try to figure things out," _to himself. Waverly frowned suspiciously at him and sighed, knowing there would be nothing she could do to figure out what he was planning. She'd just have to trust him, and even if he did betray her (which she didn't think he would) at least she would be outside in some clean air!

Besides, there was nothing better to do anyways.


	13. A Moment in Time

_A/N: My apologies again for not writing in a long time! I just have so many stories I am writing! Typical author, eh? Anyways, thank you so much Valerie Chamlee and Jen711!! You guys have both inspired me to not only write this story again, but finish it! So, here's another chapter to enjoy! And the title's kind of dumb, but I couldn't think of anything. Hey, it fits as you will soon see!! (Isn't this title also a song? Whatever!)_

Chapter 13: A Moment in Time

"Oh wow! This place is beautiful!" Waverly breathed as she and Gil strode under arching canopies of some magnificent trees. She inhaled deeply, loving the woody scent compared to the rotting, dirty one of the dungeon. "This reminds me of my last house. We had nice woods like this there, too. I used to go out and write my initials on every tree I could find."

"Your last house?" Gil wondered aloud.

Waverly turned to him. "Yeah. We move a lot."

"Why…?" Gil began, but then he realized the answer. He gave a strained smile and sighed. "I wish my dad weren't so obsessed with getting revenge. Then maybe we could go somewhere interesting together. He pretty much locks me up in the castle just to contain me, and he won't let me leave without him." Gil glanced at Waverly, straightened and shook himself. "Of course, I usually just leave the castle on my own anyways. I don't get into that much trouble, unless my dad sends that ugly butler of his to watch out for me." Suddenly, Gil was reminded of something. He turned around and looked over his shoulder, scanning the surrounding forest. Nothing seemed amiss. He relaxed, his shoulders slumping.

"So, what about your mother? Do you have any memories of her?" Waverly brought up.

"Uh," Gil muttered, staring down at his feet. "Not really," he said uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry!" Waverly apologized quickly. "I didn't mean to offend you!"

"I'm not offended. Sometimes, I wish I did. I mean, I never really had any happy memories with my dad…oh never mind. It's stupid."

"No, what is it?" Waverly urged sincerely.

Gil looked embarrassed. "Sometimes I think my father doesn't like me because…because he blames me for killing her. I know, it's stupid—"

"It's not stupid! I used to think my life was too boring. I actually _wanted _something adventurous to happen. I just didn't think it actually would…and now I regret that, considering all I've gone through lately," she said, chuckling dryly.

There was silence for a few moments. "But then we would have never met," Gil spoke up softly.

Waverly looked up at him as they paused in place. "You're not like your father at all, are you?" she murmured thoughtfully.

Gil was uncomfortable and attempted an unsure smile. "Is that a good thing?"

Waverly smiled. "I would say so, yes."

Gil grinned.

"Although…I did think you were a royal brat when we first met!"

"How dare you!" Gil burst out, pretending rage. He stomped forward as Waverly darted away, giggling madly.

"I bet you can't catch me, your Royal Bratiness!" she called over her shoulder. Laughing, she skipped away with Gil hot on her heels. The forest whipped by as she parted through some bushes and emerged into an area with a large pond and ten foot waterfall. She stopped to take in the view when Gil crashed out of the undergrowth and collided with her. She toppled forward into the water, spewing as she broke through the surface.

Gil, seeing her flailing arms, ripped off his shirt, threw aside his pouches and barely hesitated before diving into the water himself, intent on rescuing her. Unfortunately, his heroic plans were unfounded. Waverly quickly adjusted herself and noticed Gil struggling to stay afloat. It wasn't long before he was thrashing madly and _she_ had to save _him_. She dragging his pathetically choking form to the bank, where he immediately crawled up and rolled onto his back, heaving for breath.

Over his wheezing, he thought he heard a strange sound. Raising his head, he saw Waverly laughing at him, nearly crying she was laughing so hard. He frowned, feeling his dignity melting.

"What's so funny?" he demanded, not very amused.

Waverly fought to breathe. "You…you look like a wet cat!" she gasped as a new strain of giggles overwhelmed her. Gil scowled and finally relented as he leaned over the edge of the water to view his reflection. His hair indeed was sticking up all over the place. Making sure she wasn't watching, he hurriedly smoothed some of the more unruly strands on his head.

"I saw that!" Waverly mocked. "You really are a cat!" she laughed.

Gil pouted. "Well, it's not like you look any better! I mean, you're swimming with all your clothes on!"

"Would you rather have me wear none at all?" Waverly retorted playfully, sniggering as Gil blushed.

"N-no…" he stammered. Waverly knew she was being merciless, but she couldn't help it! She splashed him and then swam away into the center of the pond, floating on her back. Gil glared at her and then relaxed into more protective observation. She did a few circuits around the pond before pausing alongside the shore where Gil dangled his legs over the side. She leaned her arms on the bank and gazed up at him.

"Do you know how to swim at all?" she asked, trying to be serious but failing miserably. Her teasing voice made Gil sulk some more as he tried to regain some of his pride. Finally, he realized it was useless.

"No. Not really. The only time I ever tried I almost drowned."

Now it was Waverly's turn to frown. "But you just jumped in…?"

Gil looked down at his fingers, which were shredding some bits of grass. He casually threw some chunks into the water. "I thought you were…in trouble," he muttered lamely, his cheeks reddening.

Waverly noted his deep discomfiture and decided to spare him any more teasing. She clambered up onto the bank next to him and lay back, letting her dress drip.

"Ahh," she sighed in pleasure. "I feel so much cleaner now! That dungeon is filthy! You really should have someone clean it, you know?" she joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Gil half-smiled. "Oh yeah, we'll get right on that. You know, I think my father would even love to join in!" he said sarcastically. Waverly stifled some more giggles as she clapped her hand to her mouth, her body shaking. "What's so funny?" he wondered.

"I just imagined your father in…an apron!" Waverly burst out, laughing hysterically. Gil added his own laughter to the mix and they both fell backward besides one another, staring up at the swaying branches of the trees outlining the pond. Quiet fell upon them, broken only by the rustling of the leaves and the sounds of birdcalls.

"I wish…I wish things could stay like this…peaceful…"

"What do you mean?" Waverly asked, propping up herself on her elbows.

Gil gazed at her. "I mean, our families are always fighting. I wish they would just stop. It's not fair that _we_ have to get caught up in _their_ problems."

"I know what you mean," Waverly sighed. Suddenly, a terrible growling ripped through the air. Gil panicked as Waverly suppressed a chuckle. "It's just my stomach!" Gil visibly relaxed and gave her a lazy smile. "So, what's for lunch?"

Gil blew out a breath and grinned wryly. He groped forward for one of his satchels and began rummaging inside. "I managed to nick pastries and fruit from the kitchens—"

"Pastries and fruit?" Waverly repeated in disbelief. Gil looked up at her, pausing in place.

"What's so bad about that?" he demanded, hurt.

"What about hunting or something? Being a man?"

Gil rolled his eyes and then stared down at his feet, ashamed. "I'm not very good at hunting…"

Waverly couldn't help herself. "Then what _are_ you good at? Sewing or something?"

"…no," Gil said hesitantly.

Waverly burst out laughing. "You hesitated! That means you _can _sew!" She laughed harder. Gil felt his cheeks burning and then glanced at her face. She was so pretty when she laughed. She seemed so happy. Suddenly he didn't feel so bad anymore. In fact, he _wanted_ to make her laugh even more!

He decided to play along. "Well, actually it's more knitting than sewing. But I can only crochet a little bit!"

Waverly opened her mouth, gasping for air. Gil saw his opening, and immediately shoved an apple between her teeth. She choked and removed the apple, giving Gil a rough, scolding slap. But by this time, he didn't even care: he was laughing too hard himself.

"What's so funny?" Waverly demanded.

Gil looked at her and then giggled foolishly. "I just pictured you like one of those roast pigs!"

Waverly smacked him, but she was laughing too as he doled out the rest of the food and began to eat. Their dining was quiet, as they were both regrouping from serious laughing bouts. Waverly's stomach hurt from laughing so much! She couldn't remember the last time that had ever happened to her. Little did she know that Gil was feeling practically the same way.

When they finished eating, it was all they could do to lay back and digest their delicious meal through a good, afternoon nap. They curled together on the grass and slept, growing closer as pleasant dreams wafted through their minds.

Waverly awoke first, and was surprised to find herself practically snuggling with the Prince. She hurriedly backed off to the side and just watched him, dozing peacefully.

What kind of life must he have led until now? she wondered. He had been so sheltered; she had never even heard Humperdinck had had a child. And then his mother had died giving birth to him. What must it have been like to be raised by everyone but his father? Humperdinck surely didn't seem the fatherly type. He would rather lay the burden on someone else.

How could Gil have turned out to be so much fun after having Humperdinck as a stand-in father?

Waverly couldn't even guess. All she knew was that he was…wonderful. She blushed to think such thoughts, but immediately berated herself for being so childish. It's not like anyone was there to see her! Just as that thought weaved through her mind, she found herself looking around at the landscape. It really was beautiful here, but she wouldn't get to see it much longer. She'd have to be brought back to the dungeons soon, alone… She shuddered.

"Are you cold?"

Waverly started as Gil sat up, rubbing his eyes. He had noticed her shivering and was already offering his discarded shirt. Waverly made a face and shook her head, secretly touched at how caring he was.

"No, I'm fine. I was just…thinking."

"About what?"

"About when I have to go back. To the cell, I mean." Waverly wondered how she felt about seeing her family again. It was the first time she had thought about that part of it. Was someone coming to rescue her? At this moment, she wasn't sure she really even wanted to be rescued. What could she go back to? Her mother's stifling over-protectiveness? Her parents' insistence on moving so frequently that she never really felt like she had a home? At least here she was freer than back home…or was she?

"Everything's so complicated," she sighed at last.

"Yeah," Gil agreed softly.

"But let's not think about that now!" Waverly determined, jumping to her feet. She was done being depressed. She was free for now, and she wanted to take advantage of that. She bounded forward into the forest. She emerged seconds later, carrying two sticks. She chucked one at Gil.

"Head's up!" she called as she set herself up in a fighting stance.

Gil flinched as the stick landed at his feet. "What was that for?" he demanded, grabbing the stick and standing up.

"_En garde_!" Waverly declared, running forward with her stick pointed outward like a sword. Gil barely managed to parry the blow, but by that time his stick had been sent flying by an underhanded flick of Waverly's wrist. He glared at her and glowered as he retrieved his stick.

"That wasn't fair! I wasn't ready!" he protested, his pride once again wounded. Waverly just grinned and lunged forward again. Gil fought off a few of her thrusts, but before long his stick was soaring through the air again. He huffed as he went to get it, annoyed at Waverly's obviously more-advanced skills.

This time, as Gil prepared himself for the next blow, he was startled to see Waverly ease into a relaxed position, dropping the stick at her side. "I wish I had my real sword back," she groaned as she sank to the ground, bored. She glanced up at Gil, still frozen in place, unsure what to do. A nasty grin spread over her face. "Geez, Gil, what _are_ you good at? Are you good at _anything_ besides sewing?"

Gil's calm demeanor disappeared and was replaced by bulging anger. "I don't know how to sew, okay!" he exploded, hurling his 'sword' back into the woods. Seething, he settled onto the ground, his hands crossed over his chest. Waverly looked at him piteously for a moment and then turned to a tree beside her.

Her face lit up with joy. "Look! It's…initials! They're carved into the tree!" she exclaimed excitedly, rising and scrutinizing them closely. "Hey these are…_our _initials!" She faced Gil. "Who did this? Did you?"

Gil nodded slowly, feeling his anger wash out of him. Waverly's moods had that way with him, and he could never stay mad long. He ran a hand through his hair. "I remember you saying something about that earlier. I woke up and did it while you were asleep. I wanted to remember this moment…"

"Really? That's so…wonderful," she breathed, running her fingers over the grooves that clearly spelled a 'G' and a 'W' in the center of jagged circle. "Oh Gil!" She squealed as she pivoted on her foot and dashed toward the dazed Prince, nearly knocking him over with the force of her embrace.

Gil was startled as she wrapped her arms around him, but managed to get back some sense and respond in kind. Waverly felt her heart bubbling with happiness. Here he was, almost a complete stranger, being so kind to her! They hardly knew anything about each other, and their families were even at war, but they had managed to find friendship and maybe even something more…

As they parted, Waverly stared up into Gil's face as he locked eyes with hers. It was a heart-pounding moment as they leaned forward, almost touching lips…when a scream made them hurriedly separate. Their eyes flickered around anxiously, eventually reconnecting with each other's in a panic. Had they been discovered?

"What's going on?" Waverly demanded breathlessly as Gil jumped to grab his satchels. Waverly tagged along behind him, dogged. "What's happening?" she repeated nervously.

Gil glanced at her quickly. "I don't know. The scream came from the direction of the prison. We have to go back. Now." In that tone of voice, Waverly could well imagine him being a prince. She nodded briskly as Gil grabbed her hand and they began to run back through the archway of trees. As Waverly gazed at them now, it seemed that their beauty was masked in late afternoon shadows, playing tricks with her mind and only serving to aggravate her frantic mood. Her heart pounded, but not out of sweet anticipation. This time it was out of fear.

_A/N: Hehe…look at that! ANOTHER cliffhanger! They happen without me even knowing… Isn't Gil adorable? This chapter was such a cute one to write! All I want to say is "Awwww!!" These two are perfect for each other! But I wonder what's going on now, hmm? Review and you'll find out sooner rather than later!_


	14. Old Enemies

_A/N: Oh Jen711 and Valerie Chamlee, you guys make me so happy! I hadn't gotten a review in FOREVER and was ready to abandon it when you came along! Yay! Thus, I spent all of yesterday writing most of the rest of the story. (It takes me a long time because I'm lazy!) So, to celebrate, here's another chapter for you! And to answer your question, Valerie, Waverly is 12 and Gil is 13. They are pretty young, but their romance is still cute! _

Chapter 14: Old Enemies

Gil and Waverly reentered the prison in the same place from which they had exited. Luckily, Gil was able to spot it quickly despite its camouflage, and they descended into the dirt dungeon beneath the earth. Waverly immediately felt the soil cling to her once-clean skin, and smelled the terrible scent of mold and rotting. But she knew no matter what, she had to be prepared to go back in the cell. She couldn't get Gil into any trouble, or it would be the end of him!

She clenched her jaw as they hurried down the cell aisle, but before Waverly could even duck inside her open cell, a figure obstructed their path. Waverly gasped.

"There you are, you foolish boy! Now give her to me!" King Humperdinck stood in his royal uniform, holding out his hand behind him as his eyes anxiously scanned the opposite direction. Waverly noted that he was breathing hard and sweat was clinging to his ringlets of hair and rolling down his neck. She recoiled as Humperdinck clenched and unclenched his hand several times in rapid succession, trying to get the message across to his son.

When he came up short, he turned around and his eyes nearly popped out in surprise. "You…!" was all he managed to say before a massive pounding echoed from the front room with the staircase leading to the entrance. Humperdinck swiveled his head, panting, and then turned back to Gil and Waverly. His shock at seeing Waverly would've made her laugh outright had the situation not seemed so dire. She could barely move her lips let alone _laugh_!

Humperdinck looked back and forth from his son to Waverly, his brain obviously struggling to comprehend as the pounding continued. Gil slowly placed his body protectively in front of hers as a high squeaky voice distracted the King.

"Your Majesty! The door won't hold much longer!" the albino wheezed.

Humperdinck's eyes widened and then narrowed to dangerous slits.

"Who are you?" he demanded coldly, facing Waverly with an evil expression.

Waverly's chin quivered and her mouth opened, but no reply was forthcoming.

"Who are you that makes him want to save you so badly?!" A sly smile fell over his face as realization dawned on him. "You're his daughter, aren't you?"

"I-I—" Waverly stammered.

Humperdinck was nodding. "Oh yes you are! It's all clicking into place!" he cried, holding his hands aloft in understanding. He pulled them back down again with a tight movement, his squinting eyes fixed on Gil's. "And how clever…" he screeched indignantly, his face reddening angrily. "How DARE you deceive me?! How DARE you make a fool out of me?!" he bellowed, raising his hand and striking Gil with so much force he was knocked off his feet. Waverly did the first thing that came to mind and knelt down to help him, but this act of kindness only sealed their doom. "Stupid girl!" Humperdinck yelled as he stepped over his son's body and smacked Waverly into the wall, bumping her head roughly. Her listless body slumped to the ground as Gil struggled to rise.

He was mustering courage to save Waverly when a massive BOOM echoed throughout the prison and the door was smashed clean off, revealing a giant figure that stooped to enter the room and swiftly brushed aside the albino as if he were no more than a fly. A smaller figure sprung out from behind him, a glinting sword outstretched in his palm. The giant glanced at his partner as the smaller man descended the stairs dramatically, a vengeful smile curling his lips.

"And so we meet again, _Your Majesty_," he spat coldly. Gil watched in fear as his father slowly unsheathed a sword at his side.

"Ah yes, my dear friend Westley, we _do _meet again. And in similar circumstances, might I add? Don't you remember your little friend here?" Humperdinck laughed nauseatingly and nodded his head toward the machine. Westley didn't even bat an eyelash; his sole focus was the King and getting him far away from the crumpled form of Waverly.

"I hope you remember my threat from last time. Although it was so many years ago…an old man like you might have forgotten," Westley uttered, his voice icy.

"Such petty insults from a peasant like you!" Humperdinck retorted. "I do happen to remember, though I don't think things will quite turn out like you planned." Humperdinck looked over his shoulder at Gil, rising unsteadily to his feet. "Gil, do this for me as your father. Take that girl and kill her. I don't care how, just do it." He removed a dagger from his belt and held it out for Westley to see. "The same dagger my dear Buttercup almost used to end her wretched life. How nostalgic!" he taunted, throwing the dagger to Gil who caught it without thinking.

"No!" the giant rumbled, leaping forward. Westley held him back with his hand.

"No, Fezzik. This is my fight. I can take care of this." His eyes hardened. "Still employing cheap tricks to survive, eh?" Westley changed the subject, hoping to keep delaying the inevitable.

"Yes, they do come quite in handy, I've found. Especially since you have indeed paused in place. I guess I was right in thinking that this girl means something to you. I thought she was Buttercup! How silly of me. I suppose my henchmen are not as brilliant as their leader." He glanced back at Gil again. "What are you waiting for, you dolt? Kill her! Do this for me, now!"

Gil's hand was trembling as he stared down at the ivory dagger. He could feel everyone's eyes boring into him, making him feel paralyzed.

"I see brilliance doesn't run in the family," Westley commented caustically.

"Gil! Kill her! Now!" Humperdinck fumed, practically having a tantrum. Gil looked back and forth between his father and his father's arch nemesis, slowly creeping forward. A fight was bound to break out soon; he could feel the tension in the air and could see his father itching to slice the smile right off Westley's face. Yet if something were to happen and Westley were to get by his dad…he'd be in big trouble. But if the opposite were to occur, his dad might take the advantage and kill Waverly when Westley was knocked down! What could he do?

Finally, the solution came to him. He raised the knife in his hand, pretending to angle it toward Waverly, when he twisted around and knocked into his father, pushing Humperdinck forward and off-balance without inflicting any injuries with the knife. Westley took the opening and lunged forward, steel clashing with steel as Humperdinck raised his sword to ward off the mortal blow.

Gil took the chance to drop the dagger and race to Waverly. He patted her face to try to wake her up, but there was no response. His body shaking, he grabbed her and flung her over his shoulder, straining under the weight. He could hear Westley's anguished cry and his father's triumphant yell as he dashed toward the back exit.

The swords continued ringing as Gil shoved Waverly outside and then clambered out himself. He was dirty and sweating profusely, but there was no time to stop. He had to get her out of there! It was the only way to keep her safe! He thought hard and decided that the best option was to get out of the general vicinity and hide as fast as possible. Hefting Waverly's dead weight over his shoulder, he grunted and staggered forward, willing his legs to hold until he got far enough away.

_A/N: Humperdinck's so nice, isn't he? Aw Gil to the rescue though! Do you people understand that Westley thinks Gil is going outside to kidnap Waverly and/or kill her? That's why he gave an "anguished cry" and Humperdinck gave a "triumphant yell" because he actually thought Gil was going to do what he told him. Just thought to point that out. It kind of sets up what needs to be set up in the next chapter! Eesh! Geez…I never know if people understand my subtleties or not! Oh well…now you know! _


	15. A Sad Reunion

A Sad Reunion

Waverly was bounced awake. She opened her eyes and found herself flung over someone's shoulder, although they were going very slowly and the person seemed far smaller than the man who had kidnapped her before. As that thought weaved through her mind, she panicked. She flung out her arms and kicked with her legs, causing the person carrying her some major problems as they finally came to a halt. Hands seized her body and gently lowered her to the ground, but she still felt the urge to struggle. She couldn't get taken again! Bad things would happen and she couldn't be blamed for it! Waverly fought as a voice tried desperately to break through her foggy mind.

"Waverly, Waverly! It's okay! We're safe here, for now at least. It's okay! It's me, Gil!"

Waverly paused in her resistance to concentrate bleary eyes at a face slowly coming into focus. It was a boy, not much older than herself, with dripping brown curls and worried blue eyes. She recognized that face and that expression and immediately felt safe.

"Gil!" she cried out emotionally, feeling tears leak out of the corners of her eyes and not caring at all. She sat up to embrace him when pain lanced through her head. She winced and lay back, her energy almost spent and muddled confusion affecting her logic.

"Stay down, Waverly. You…you hit your head pretty hard. I'm sorry for bumping you so much too, I just…had to get you out of there."

"What happened?" Waverly asked with a pitifully small voice. She reached up a trembling hand and Gil clutched it in his own. He opened his mouth but couldn't reply. Waverly took the time to study him. He had apparently over-exerted himself, considering that he was panting heavily and sweat clung to his clothing. His face was red, but on one cheek it seemed to flare more brilliantly than the other. "What…happened to your face?" Waverly cleared her throat to make her voice sound less weak and repeated the question. Gil didn't reply. Waverly felt as if she knew the answer…

And then it all came back with such a force, Waverly gasped and blinked. "Your father…he _hit_ you!" Gil's face drained of color apart from the spot where his father had struck him. "He hit you and then he hit me…and I hit a wall," Waverly confirmed at last. She couldn't believe this was happening! Her father had actually come with Fezzik too, and Humperdinck had wanted Gil to kill her, but he hadn't and instead he saved her life! She smiled in gratitude and then frowned. What was she but another damsel in distress? Hadn't she promised not to end up like her mother, getting carted around and needing to be saved all the time? No! She would not be like that! She would be a warrior!

Waverly struggled to sit up and then stand, but Gil noticed and tried to prevent it.

"What are you doing? You're hurt! Stay back and rest!" he insisted, trying to push her back down.

"No! My dad needs help!" Waverly protested, straining to pry off Gil's steady hands locked on her shoulders.

"Waverly, I think you have a concussion. You need to get some rest or it'll just get worse and you could…" he trailed off.

"And I could what, die? Well my dad will if I don't help him!"

"Your dad can take care of himself! He would want you to be safe!"

Waverly hated that Gil was right, but she could picture her mother crying desperately for a savior and didn't want in any way to be associated with that. She didn't need anyone to save her! She could save herself! She struggled to get up again as Gil held her down. She thrashed against him.

"Waverly, don't! Please! You'll hurt yourself even more! We need to stay here in the woods and hide! Don't you understand? What's wrong with you?" Gil was pleading with her. Waverly saw his scared eyes and felt her brain numb. Tears welled in her eyes again.

"I can't think!" she whimpered brokenly. Gil was practically crying himself as he bent down and hugged her, comforting himself as well.

"Get the hell off my daughter," came a cold voice. Waverly felt Gil stiffen above her as she craned her neck to see her dad brandishing the sword in all his glory. She felt a wave of affection course through her.

"Dad!" she cried out happily, although her voice sounded strained and pleading.

Westley took her cry in a different way.

"Get the HELL off of her!!" he screamed. Gil was shaking madly but was frozen in place, too terrified to move off of Waverly's body. "GET THE HELL OFF OF HER NOW!!!" Westley screeched.

Gil was paralyzed in place. Waverly couldn't comprehend what was going on.

"Dad?" she tried again.

Then everything happened so fast. Gil was panicking, but he managed to roll off of Waverly and try to get to his feet and run away. But Westley wasn't satisfied to let him go, considering what he assumed Gil was doing to his daughter. His fatherly instincts kicked in mixed with bloodlust, and he lunged forward before Gil was able to get to his feet. His sword pierced Gil's back and burst out of his stomach, shining red with wet blood. Gil gasped as Westley yanked the sword out and Gil crumpled to the ground. Westley was about to finish the job when a scream stopped him.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" Waverly yelled with all of her might, finally understanding what had happened. Tears blurred her vision as she crawled to Gil, lying face down, blood pouring out of his fatal wound. Waverly turned him over and saw he was still alive, although gasping for breath. His face was pale and his eyes were glassing over as he heaved desperately for air that wouldn't come. He turned his head agonizingly to Waverly and his lips twitched into a smile. He raised a feeble hand which Waverly caught in her own.

"W-W-Wav-verly," he strained, his smile shuddering with his death throes. Tears streaked from his eyes as she held his hand and tears from her eyes blended with his. Gil opened his mouth to say something again, but no words echoed forth. Instead, his body convulsed and then stilled. Gil's head lolled to one side as Waverly felt his hand loosen in her grasp.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" Waverly shouted, grief-stricken. "NOOOO!!!" How could this have happened? Was it her fault? "Gil, NOOO!! I won't let you die!" she cried out, all of her own pain forgotten in the depth of grief that felt like a hole in her heart. She immediately pulled Gil's lifeless body to her own, hugging it tight and searching for his gentle comfort squeezing back. Instead, she felt the wet, warm stickiness of his blood staining her dress and the limpness of his limbs. Tears overwhelmed Waverly's vision and she choked violently on her own emotions, pressing Gil's body to hers.

Then suddenly, hands were extracting her from Gil.

"No!" Waverly cried out, reaching out to grab Gil and stop him from falling over. He slumped to the ground as her father physically dragged her away. "NO! Let me go back to him! Let me see him!" she begged, her misery like a chilling fog settling on all her bones. "Let me GO!" She slapped away her dad's firm hands but Westley finally managed to get a tight grip on her.

"Waverly—!" he began, but she turned to him with tears in her eyes. She glared at him malevolently, her eyes boring into him forcefully.

"How could you?" she stammered. "How could you just do that?" Her body was shaking but it was no longer from sorrow; it was from fierce, burning rage. Westley took her death glare unsuccessfully, deeply shaken. He was utterly confused as to her reaction. From his standpoint, she should've been happy to be freed of him! He clutched her hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

"Waverly, he was the King's son—"

"AND I LOVED HIM!!!"

Westley felt as though he had been kicked in the gut. He saw the conviction in his daughter's eyes as she ripped free from his hold and went to the boy, Gil, lying in his own pool of blood. But as Westley looked down, dropping his sword, he saw that the blood wasn't only on the ground. It was on his hands, dripping with maddeningly noise into the soil. What had he done?? How could he have slain a boy? He was only Waverly's age, and Westley hadn't hesitated to ram a sword through his gut! All Westley had felt was revenge for the kidnapping of his daughter, but he had seen things all wrong!

Waverly loved him. How many times had Westley boasted about his and Buttercup's true love nonsense, not stopping even though Waverly would roll her eyes and demand him to stop? He loved to tease her about that one thing that annoyed her so much, and even went so far as to say she might find true love someday. She had replied by scoffing and slamming the door to her room. Oh how could he have been so callous?

Westley raised his hands to his face, but the blood was still there. Tears now overcame his own eyes as he wept. He had vowed never to shed innocent blood, and now that vow was soiled. How could he go on living, let alone face his daughter?

"Waverly! Waverly!!" a voice called. Westley and Waverly glanced up. Suddenly, a figure trotted into view. Westley watched as the person, clad in black from head to toe, passed by the brush they were hiding behind and kept going, calling out his daughter's name.

"Waverly! Oh where are you?" the figure cried out miserably. All of a sudden, Westley knew who it was. His eyes widened.

"Over here!" he yelled hoarsely. Waverly looked at him, her face blank and her eyes sagging. She seemed ready to collapse from exhaustion at any moment. The figure in black came back, following the sound of Westley's voice. They finally found Waverly and Westley and stood just staring.

"Westley? Waverly? The Prince!" the figure gasped, dropping to their knees.

Waverly glared at this newcomer suspiciously. "Who are you?" she demanded harshly. The figure removed their mask and shook out long, blonde hair that rippled down their back. Buttercup appraised the scene and then focused on her tired daughter with tears in her clear eyes.

"Oh Waverly! I was so scared!" She reached forward and wrapped her daughter in a massive, comforting hug. Waverly found she didn't have the energy or desire to resist it. She was crushed into her mother's chest, and there, she sobbed dryly, her tears gone.

"H-he's d-dead…" Waverly stammered.

Buttercup stroked her daughter's hair. She looked over Waverly's shoulder to Westley, sitting in a heap, staring at his hands brokenly. Her eyes found Westley's discarded sword covered in blood, and she understood.

"It was…an accident," Westley tried feebly. Buttercup swallowed and squeezed her daughter's tiny frame harder.

"He was trying to save me!" Waverly said in a muffled voice.

Buttercup nodded slowly. "I can understand that. He seemed like a good boy, completely different from his father," she murmured quietly.

"How…how are you here?" Westley wondered weakly.

Buttercup fixed her eyes on her crumpled husband. She smiled as best she could, forgiving him for both her and her daughter. "When you didn't come back for a few days, I knew something terrible had happened. I ran into Inigo and he told me everything, but by then, I was already gone. I…I selfishly didn't want to be the damsel in distress anymore. I wanted to save my daughter." Buttercup took a bracing breath. "I raced to Humperdinck's castle and managed to get there before he knew of Waverly's capture. I somehow secured a job looking after his son and I was there when Humperdinck ordered the Prince to torture Waverly, who he thought was me. I approached the Prince later and he confessed he wasn't really going to torture her. When he left the castle, I tried to follow him to find the prison where they were keeping Waverly, but I got lost. I suppose it's just luck that I ended running into you two, here," Buttercup finished sadly. "How tragic that this had to happen though," she said softly to herself.

Waverly pulled away and gazed up at her mother with a tear-streaked face. "But, can't he be saved? I mean, Dad died and he was brought back to life! We just need to find Miracle Max, right?" The hopeful look on Waverly's face might have reduced Buttercup to tears, but she felt as if she had to be strong for her daughter.

"Waverly, Miracle Max is far away right now. There's nothing we can do." She squeezed Waverly harder, but she was shaking her head.

"No! There's got to be something we can do! He didn't deserve this!" She broke down again into Buttercup's chest. Buttercup could feel her trembling and rushed to soothe her. She glanced up and was surprised to see Westley looking down, focused intently on something. He appeared to be in deep thought.

"Westley?"

Waverly broke apart to also stare at her father questioningly.

"What is it?" Buttercup continued earnestly.

Westley raised his head, his fists clenching and his eyes shining. "I think I know how to save him."


	16. The Machine

_A/N: So, does everyone want to kill me now that I killed Gil? Ah I'm evil aren't I? Oh well. Guess you'll have to see what happens…so why are you reading the author's note? Get to the story already! Lol! _

Chapter 16: The Machine 

"So Fezzik's with you?" Buttercup asked as she hurried forward, Waverly clinging to her back.

Westley nodded. "I was able to knock out Humperdinck, and I told Fezzik to keep watch. I wanted to go after Waverly." He glanced back at his daughter, who was sadly eyeing the boy in his arms.

Waverly found she couldn't look away from Gil. It was as if she were expecting him to come alive suddenly and tell her what he had been about to say. But his body was drooping, his eyes were closed and the heat was quickly evaporating from him. He was dead. No matter how many times she tried not to think about it, she always had to keep reminding herself of the truth. She wished so hard that it weren't true! And she knew now it wasn't her dad's fault, although there was still a part of her that wanted so badly to blame something, anything, and Westley was obviously the one behind it all. She just knew she had to try to be strong and not create a rift between her parents. She was happy to see them, after all. They had both come to save her…if only Gil hadn't…then it would have been wonderful. But maybe now they could get a second chance at that happiness.

Waverly steered her parents back to the secret exit of the dungeon. As her mother let her down, she couldn't help but remember the time when she and Gil had just done this very thing. It had only happened hours ago, and yet it seemed like years had passed.

She yanked open the exit and slid inside, waiting for her parents to follow. Westley was careful not to jar Gil's body as he maneuvered below. Once situated, they raced forward to fulfill their plan.

As they entered the entrance room, they came to a halt. In one corner, Fezzik stood guard over an unconscious Humperdinck, his royal costume dirty and his crown lying in the dust feet away. In another corner, the huddled form of the albino lay in a heap. Fezzik looked up as they came in and let out a cry of joy at seeing Waverly.

"Little Buttercup!" he exclaimed. Waverly couldn't help but smile, although it was tinged with grief. Seeing the giant's face light up like that would always make her grin despite herself. She began to run forward as Fezzik went to her with open arms, preparing for what would surely be a massive yet painful hug.

It was then that out of the corner of her eye, Buttercup noticed it. Movement. The King had seen his dead son and had targeted the only thing that would quench his pain: Waverly. The King dashed forward with his sword in his hand. Fezzik saw it but was attacked from behind by the albino clambering onto his back to make a desperate escape attempt. Fezzik swiveled around the get the albino off of him, distracting him from the King's rampage. Westley saw what was happening but couldn't put down Gil's body quickly enough to draw his sword and save Waverly from the onslaught.

Buttercup was the only one primed for action. In a swift motion, she drew her knife, aimed and threw. The aim was true. Humperdinck's eyes registered surprise at seeing the real Buttercup as his hands groped for his chest and he pitched forward. He hit the ground just as Fezzik threw off the albino, the pathetic creature hitting the wall and laying motionless. Waverly just stood there, her breathing labored as her knees buckled forward. Fezzik lunged and swooped her up in his arms as the entire room seemed to exhale in relief.

"Humperdinck's…dead?" Westley wondered hopefully as he readjusted Gil's body in his arms. Buttercup went to inspect the King. She turned him over with her foot, prying out the knife first.

"Yes," she said, and then smiled sadly. "At least he died trying to help his son and being brave for once."

Westley chuckled and Buttercup looked at him strangely. "What's so funny?"

"I was wondering where all the kitchen knives were disappearing to, as of late. Practicing, eh?" he grinned. Buttercup smiled back, chuckling herself. Westley's smile vanished as he turned to face the machine, praying with all his heart that it would work. He took a peek at his daughter, dozing in Fezzik's arms. For her sake, he prayed that this boy would live again.

He carefully set Gil on the platform of the machine. He shuddered briefly to remember his time on this awful contraption before hardening his resolve. He grabbed the headpiece of the machine and adjusted it on Gil's head. Straps of leather secured two suction cups in the boy's ears, and Westley helped pulled down four more: two for his chest and two for his stomach. He removed Gil's bloodstained shirt and attempted to clean the blood away from his wound the best he could, finally managing to install all the necessary suction cups in all the necessary places. Westley glanced up to Buttercup, who was looking around for a lever that might reverse the flow.

Buttercup stooped low, checking the gears and noticing that they were freshly oiled. She shivered to think of what that might have meant for her daughter. She forced herself to move on and inspected the machine for any telltale levers or switches that might reverse the flow, noticing all the while that the machine in actuality was in really bad shape. It probably would only last long enough for one shot. They had one chance left. What if they made a mistake?

"Are you sure this will work, Westley?" she called over her shoulder.

"If this machine can take life, it must be able to give life too!" Westley insisted as he finished chaining Gil to the table and began looking for levers himself. He frowned as he came to a section with about twenty different switches on it. He sighed heavily but knew he had to try for Waverly. He owed it to her.

"Westley, I think I found it!" Buttercup cried suddenly.

Westley sat up. "There are tons of them here. Are you sure you found the right one?"

"Yes!"

"Are you positive?"

"Westley, just come here and look," Buttercup said at last in an exasperated tone. Westley relented and went to his wife. She had located a switch that was not very hidden. In fact, it was quite large and easy to spot, considering its bright red coloring. Above the switch was the word SUCK in large white letters and below it was the word BLOW in a similar style. The switch was pointing upward.

Westley laughed aloud. "That's convenient!"

"Well, Humperdinck wasn't a very smart man," Buttercup stated. She idly flicked the switch down and went to the activation lever. "How far should I pull it?"

"As far as it can go!" Westley instructed. Buttercup yanked and the room filled up with a slight humming. The well-oiled gears began to crank, slowly at first, but gaining momentum. Westley watched as Gil's body began to vibrate and then convulse as the power of water and suction cups was blasted into his body.

Waverly stirred as the noise assaulted her ears. She opened her eyes to find herself cradled in Fezzik's huge arms. She looked over his bulging muscles and spotted Gil shaking violently. Her eyes widened as she leaped from Fezzik's arms and ran to him.

"Waverly—no!" Buttercup warned, but Waverly didn't listen. She wanted to be there for Gil. She ran to him and grabbed his hand, prepared for the jolt that never came. The machine sputtered to a stop, its wheels cracking and gears tumbling out of it due to the force and pressure it was exerting. The room hushed as the machine made a final creaking protest and quieted. There was no sound. No one moved. Everyone held their breaths, knowing this was the only chance for Gil. The machine would not be able to work a second time, nor ever again.

Waverly squeezed Gil's hand, feeling tears again. It hadn't worked! A single teardrop fell from her eye and landed on Gil's chest as she leaned forward to hug his still body. Suddenly, something squeezed her back and she felt Gil's chest seize as he drew in a massive breath. Waverly cried out in joy as her parents rushed to her side, overwhelmed with happiness.

"Gil!" Waverly said, her heart nearly melting. "You're alive!"

"We need to stitch up his wound," Buttercup declared, seeing him starting to bleed again. She reached down and pulled off one of her boots, revealing a mini sewing kit. She winked at Waverly. "A woman never leaves without one of these tucked away."

"And I always thought you were referring to a concealed dagger of some sort when you said things like that," Westley commented.

Buttercup smiled slyly. "Oh, I keep one of those in an _extra_ special place," she said playfully. Waverly laughed at her father's waggling eyebrows as Buttercup went to patch up Gil's wound.

"He won't wake up in the middle, will he?" Waverly suddenly asked fearfully, clutching her mother's hand.

"Oh no," Buttercup assured her. "He's lost a lot of blood; he shouldn't be waking up anytime soon."

"But does that mean…?"

Buttercup smiled at her daughter. "Don't worry. He'll be fine. As soon as I sew him up that is!"

All of a sudden, Waverly burst out laughing. Buttercup looked up at her, astonished. Even Westley was gaping.

"He could probably sew himself up!" Waverly cried, nearly shedding tears she was laughing so hard. Westley and Buttercup exchanged confused glances before shrugging.

Buttercup made quick work of Gil's wounds, on the front and back. Waverly held his hand the entire time, watching his face as it gained back the appearance of life.

"Oh Gil," she whispered as she lay on his chest, smiling in remembrance of their morning. It seemed so long ago…

"Hey! Thought I should say something," yelled a voice from the door. They all looked up to see Fezzik grinning down at them. "There are people coming down here. I already got a few of them, but more are coming. We better get out of here, soon!"

Westley nodded and turned to Waverly. "We need to go, Waverly!" he urged. Waverly resisted his tug as she ripped off the suction cups.

"We can't just leave him here! They'll think we did awful things to him!" she said.

Westley looked sad. "They are already poisoned against us, and Humperdinck is dead. If we don't get out of here, we'll be dead too. I won't let that happen," he stated firmly.

Waverly felt her heart breaking. She wouldn't get to see Gil after he woke up. How on earth could she explain herself and tell him the things she so desperately wanted to?

"Waverly, here," Buttercup called as she tossed Waverly a piece of parchment and a quill. "Write him a letter. Take your time. We'll hold them off until you're done," she promised.

Waverly smiled her thanks and sat down to gather her thoughts. She lifted the quill and dabbed it into an inkpot, feeling the words gliding from her mind and through her fingers. Tears fell unbidden as she wrote and the sounds outside worsened as the castle became aware of the situation in the dungeon.

When at last she finished, she blew on it to dry the ink. She folded it and placed it in Gil's fingers, curling them over to keep it secure. She kissed his hand as she turned to leave, hoping it wouldn't be the last time she would ever see him.

_A/N: Okay, there's actually one more chapter left. I decided to split it up because it would work better that way. So the next one's pretty much an epilogue. Hope you liked the story! The epilogue will be up tomorrow!_


	17. Epilogue

So many flickering lights.

Gil moaned and squinted his eyes, trying to move his limbs but finding them incredibly heavy. He gave up that effort rather quickly and resorted to mere observation. He found himself in his room. He was surprised, but he didn't exactly know why. He felt as though he had been somewhere else before…it didn't make sense that he was in his room.

"Oh well," he murmured, sitting up a little in his grand bed.

"Ah, your Majesty. I see you have awakened," came a voice. Gil watched as his father's ugly butler entered the room, bowing low before coming to his bedside.

"What…what happened?" Gil wondered aloud blearily. The details seemed to evade him, all except for one thing: why had the butler called him 'your Majesty?'

"It appears, your Majesty, that you were found in the dungeon on the machine."

"The machine?" Gil exclaimed. What had he been doing on the machine??

"Yes. No one has been able to explain it, but it seems that when you were found, your wounds had already been stitched up. You had lost a lot of blood, considering your pale skin, but otherwise, you were healthy. Which, might I add, your Majesty, is rather astounding considering the grievous wound you seemed to have taken and survived from."

Gil moved his left hand and pulled down one of his bed covers, revealing his stomach and a distinct red line with x's of thread sealing it closed. As he moved, he could feel a similar thing on his back. When on earth had he received a wound like that? Something had gone _through_ him! How had he survived? It was a mystery indeed!

"Who…do you know who did this to me?"

The butler shook his head. "No one can say. We assumed it was the same people who killed your father, but then you were patched up so skillfully…"

"My father's…dead?" Gil choked disbelievingly.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. We found his body in the same vicinity as yours. It appears that he died of a knife to the heart, or some sort."

Gil couldn't believe it. His father was dead…so _he _was king! But he felt as though he were missing some huge chunks out of his memory bank. He saw a girl, with long blonde hair…

"Wav-Buttercup! Where is Buttercup?" he demanded. What had happened to Waverly? He prayed for her wellbeing.

"It seems that she escaped. We have reason to believe it was her rescuers that killed your father, but then again it all comes down to you…" the butler trailed off, shaking his head in absolute confusion.

Gil suddenly remembered a face, a man's face. Westley…Westley had come and fought his father. Had he killed him? Most likely. Gil didn't know how to feel about that. He _was_ glad though that Waverly was safe. She was home now, where she belonged. He smiled and then grew sad. He would probably never see her again. Her father was, after all, the biggest criminal in Guilder. With this whole incident and the murder of his father, Westley's head would be targeted the most. And if Westley was a smart man, which Gil could well believe, then he would keep his family well out of reach of such hateful hands.

He swallowed and clenched his hands. He jerked back when he felt his right hand crunch something. He dismissed the butler as he carefully removed a piece of tear-stained parchment from his fist and gently unfolded it. It was a letter addressed to him. He read it eagerly.

_Dear Gil, _

_It's Waverly here. I hope you are faring well. I wish I could see you, but I've come to understand that we have to leave. People can only think the worst, seeing as your father is dead at the hands of my mother no less. The __real__ Buttercup was disguised as a person named Black and she killed your father because he was trying to kill me. I'm sorry, Gil. I know your father was a vile man, but he was still your father. At least now my family and I can live in peace. Besides, I know that you will be a better king than your father ever was. I wish you luck and I desperately hope that we can see each other again. Like my father always said, 'true love doesn't happen everyday', but I believe that it did today. If this is the case, then we are destined to meet again, in a month, a year, a decade: it matters not. I'll be waiting for that day._

_Always yours, _

_Waverly_

_P.S. I'll always think of you when I'm sewing! _

Gil finished the letter with a sad chuckle. He had been wondering what had happened to Black! It was still too shocking to think that his father was dead though and that _he_ was king now! He hoped he could prove Waverly correct in that aspect. And he dearly hoped he would see her again. He could feel her longing in the letter and could see the tears that had fallen as she wrote these parting words. It nearly broke his heart. He truly almost felt like weeping, but Waverly had changed her sobbing tactics at the end.

"I can't sew!" Gil said furiously. A maid peeked her head in the door at his outburst and he was quick to grin sheepishly and wave her away. At least Waverly had a way to remember him, he thought, although all the time they spent together would be engrained in his head forever. Starting with Eaglewart and ending with their initials engraved in the tree, he would remember Waverly in everything. And not only that. He would wait for her as she would wait for him. One day they would see each other again; he firmly believed that.

After all, what Waverly said made sense.

True love doesn't happen every day, but maybe today, it did.


End file.
